Dungbombs and S-P-E-W II
by GoldenSilence
Summary: Ch. 5!!-Hermione/George, Lavender/Ron, Eloise/Neville, Angelina/Fred. *The fanfic in which minor characters star.* Mischeviousness, craziness, and hormones abound in the fifth year-along with pranks, the Yule ball, and that guy from Witch's Weekly.:)
1. Drooble's Best Chewing Gum

@Dungbombs and S-P-E-W@  
  
(1/?)-Drooble's Best Chewing Gum  
  
by:GoldenSilence  
  
email=flipgal14@yahoo.com  
  
category:romance/humor  
  
keywords:Weasley twins, Lee/Katie, Harry/Cho  
  
spoilers:PS/SS, CoS  
  
rating:PG  
  
summary:Hermione/George, Lavender/Ron, Neville/Eloise, Parvarti/Seamus, Fred/Angelina..*the fanfic in which minor characters star* Mischeviousness, craziness, and hormones abound in the fifth year-along with pranks, the Yule ball, and that guy from Witch's Wireless Weekly.:)  
  
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
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A/N=Ooooh,looky, looky..it's the shiny all new sequel..going to be about ten to eleven chapters long..horrible title included! You might want to have read my first part "Dungbombs and S-P-E-W" first to make sense of this. This picks up a few months after the first left off:) Enjoy!!And give me some feedback, will ya? I live off that sort of stuff. Especially if anyone has any ideas for some cool pranks they want Hermione and George to pull-if you do-write 'em in your review and if I include them in my story, I'll give you full credit.:)  
  
IMPORTANT:In this chapter I say that the fifth years and sixth years are together in Professor Binn's class-I know only people of the same year have class together, but it's important to the story that the fifth years and seventh years share at least one class..otherwise however do George and Hermione have time to be together?  
  
Also, this story will NOT have a ton about Harry, even though Ron and Hermione will be in it alot. Sorry. I like my minor characters, I do.:P  
  
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The year was already in the beginnings of December and snow was falling heavily outside of Hogwarts. Several first years in sweaters and scarves could be seen, heads bowed from the wind, walking to Professor Sprout's greenhouses. A few fifth years passed by in the other direction, some of them walking like the first years, some of them, mostly the girls, on sleds being pulled by disgruntled looking various boys.  
  
Hermione focused on one girl and one guy in particular. The girl was on a sled, which, in the tradition of suffering boyfriends everywhere, the guy was dragging along through the snow. Bundled in collection of furs and animal skins that had probably taken the lives of a polar bear, a fox, and what appeared have been a very fuzzy purple moose to make, the girl had a smile that would have made her look the spitting image of the chesire cat..if the chesire cat had a preference for dark red lipstick and bright sparkly pink eyeshadow.  
  
The guy, on the other hand, looked as if he was one step away from tipping his girlfriend, sled and all, into the ice covered waters of Hogwart's lake. Even with his straw colored hair covered by a knitted hat, there was no mistaking him anywhere. Draco Malfoy stuck out wherever he went-for good or bad. Realizing who the boy and the girl outside both were, Hermione stifled a giggle behind her hand. Pansy and Draco. The perfect couple. Ha! As her own boyfriend put it, it was more like the perfect couple of idiots.  
  
Hermione's boyfriend in question was sitting exactly seven rows away, in the very back of the room (better for performing tricks and spells out of the viewing range of the teacher) with his twin, and Lee Jordan;who was glancing out the window at the exact same scene Hermione was. Namely, Pansy on a sled, now being pulled by Draco across Hogwart's lake.  
  
"Twenty sickles he falls through the ice and takes her with him," whispered Lee to George and Fred.  
  
Both twins looked to see what Lee was talking about and then broke into identical grins. "You're on."  
  
It as at that moment Professor Binns ceased his lecture and looked around for a student to pick on.  
  
*************  
  
"Ahem. Miss Granger?? MISS GRANGER??"  
  
Hermione jerked her eyes away from the frosted windowpanes. "Uh. Umm.."  
  
The whole class, half of which had recently been asleep, the other half of which were goofing off in abandonement, seemed to come to attention immediately as if they had been listening to Professor Binns all along.  
  
Hermione's face went red as she felt their eyes watching her-especially HIS eyes. She wasn't going to ask Professor Binns to repeat the question, she just wasn't. Not when she had just been lecturing George that very morning on just why he should pay attention in class and not practice trying to make Snape go bald, spell Flitwick's wand so that it grew to be heavier than the teacher himself, or enchant various plants in Professor Sprout's class to start tap dancing.  
  
Professor Binns raised his eyebrows. "A straightforward answer will do."  
  
Hermione scanned her open textbook desperately for a clue as to what educational question Professor Binns could have possibly been asking her. Rebellion of the unicorns in 1776? Or revolt of the hippogriffs in 1880? Or was it that nonsense about the union the dragons formed for better representation and more damsels in distress in 1234?  
  
"Shame," said a low voice in Hermione's head. "Looks like Miss Granger doesn't listen to what comes out of her own mouth very well, does she?"  
  
"George," thought Hermione furiously, knowing George could hear her perfectly well inside his head. "You're not supposed to use spells like this in class! Cut it out!"  
  
"Hey, magic is supposed to be used at Hogwarts, right?"  
  
"Hopeless," muttered Hermione. "If you haven't noticed, Professor Binns asked me a question and I still haven't answered, so unless you can help, turn off this bloody spell."  
  
" If someone hadn't been staring out the window so desperately they looked like they were about to take a nosedive through it, they would know what Professor Binns was talking about, wouldn't they?" said George merrily.  
  
Professor Binns harumphed loudly. "Perhaps I should ask someone else since apparently Miss Granger wasn't paying careful enough attention."  
  
Everyone in the class slumped downwards in their desks, trying to appear inconspicious so they wouldn't be the unlucky one to get called on.  
  
"Answer. Answer. Just give me the answer," Hermione thought at George.  
  
" Repeat after me; The Victorian founding of the Association of Tea Drinking Giants, you boring old nutter."  
  
Hermione repeated obediently. "The Victorian founding Of the Association of Tea Drinking Giants, you boring old nu-" she cut off suddenly when she realized just what she was saying.  
  
Professor Binn's face remained expressionless.  
  
"I'm afraid that is incorrect, Miss Granger. The Victorian Assocation of Tea Drinking Giants was not founded by Boring Old. He was the lawyer on the case of the stampeding mustangs in 1722. The case of 1722, was, however, very important in bringing in the term.."  
  
Everyone's faces went back from being alert to glazing over slowly into stupidor. The students once again went back to doing whatever they had been doing earlier-namely, anything that didn't require them to listen to Professor Binns. Ron and Lavender, sitting opposite Hermione, went quietly back to their game of chess that they were playing, substituting different colors of licorice for pawns, knights, queens, and so on.  
  
Harry continued to doodle Cho's name in the margins of "Quidditch Through The Ages", which was carefully tucked inside his school textbook. Parvati started energetically scribbling yet another note to Lavender. It would be quite a feat if either of them had a scrap of paper left in their notebooks at the end of the year with the way they had taken to note-writing (it was much easier than whispering. You didn't get caught nearly as often.)  
  
Far on the other side of the room, Fred transfigured a small pillow from the parchment he was supposed to be using to take notes and promptly rested his head on it. He nudged George and Jordan. "If I snore, one of you guys shake me."  
  
Hermione put her face in her hands, tuning out Professor Binns. She should have known that George would have added on a little insult to the teacher to go with his answer.  
  
"I'm never going to live this down."  
  
  
  
George's laugh echoed inside her head. "I'm sure all three people that were paying attention will be absolutely horrified that you dared to make a mistake."  
  
Hermione would have glared at George if she could have turned around in her seat and done so directly. "No thanks to you. I could never hate you, but I advise you to turn off this spell before I decide that the only kisses you are going to be getting from now on are the ones blown from Moaning Myrtle."  
  
She could practically see George pulling a mock sorrowful face and pretending to clutch his heart as he fell out of his chair. "No, no, anything but that! I can't take it!"  
  
"OUT. OF. MY. HEAD. NOW. Before I start shrieking at you like Pansy."  
  
"Go ahead. I have tough ear drums..built up from years of Ron screaming every time me or Fred made his wand turn into a balloon spider."  
  
"You know that threat I just made about not kissing you ever again? It still stands," hinted Hermione.  
  
"Eeek..consider me gone." George's voice immediately faded away as he said as much and Hermione gave a roll of her eyes. Sharing Professor Binn's class with George made the usually deadly boring class never dull.  
  
**********  
  
Bored. Bored. BOOOOORED. It was one hour later and Professor Binns was still droning on and on and on...Who on earth had ever decided that History of Magic class should be two hours would get a personal shipment of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes the minute they went into business.  
  
George idly pondered the merits of throwing the scone he had tucked in his robes for a snack at Professor Binn's wide open mouth to see if it actually went in. He decided not to. Wasn't worth the effort. Make the scone magically lift out of his pocket and hit Lee on the head? Not worth it either. George sighed. What he really wanted to do was go over and chat with Hermione, who seemed to be the only one who was actually bothering to take notes on anything Professor Binns was saying at all. At the same time, she was also, noted George with a sense of satisfaction, talking to both Lavender and Ron out of the side of her mouth.  
  
George wished he could be sitting next to her, but unfortunately, the one class they were in together had alphabetically arranged seating. And George was pretty sure Professor Binns wouldn't buy his deciding to legally change his last name to "Gray". The only reason George would change his last name was just because "Gray" was the closest thing he could think of to "Granger" and Professor Binns knew it.  
  
Watching Lavender and Parvarti passing notes gave George an idea. Perhaps he could write Hermione one. George began searching his desk for paper, but unfortunately, realized his notebook was nowhere to be found. His eyes went straight to Lee's desk, where, sure enough, Lee had a small collection of wadded up peices of paper that were covered in blue flames for him to warm his hands over. The rest of paper from George's notebook were being put to the use of providing paper airplanes.  
  
Lee caught George watching and grinned. "Hope you don't mind me using your notebook," he mouthed. "You didn't seem to be using it to take notes, so.."  
  
George groaned. Nix that idea. He went back to being bored for another ten minutes before he spied the chewing gum on the edge of the (now napping) Fred's desk.  
  
A sudden plan formed in his head. Commending himself on not only finding a way to give Hermione a little gift (ermm..well sort of) but finding a way to keep himself from being bored-for a few seconds- as well, George snatched the gum, took out his wand, and set to work.  
  
************  
  
Hermione had just finished her last page of notes on Professor Binn's subject of the day. Smiling to herself, she closed her notebook, ready to use the last thirty minutes of class to write a quick note to George. She was tearing out a piece of paper to write it on when the noise of several people giggling made her turn around in her seat.  
  
Ooh no. Oh no. George and boredom were a dangerous combination at the best of times. Professor Binn's class was definitely not the best of times. A pink heart about the size of Hermione's own head was floating eerily towards her across the room, and it was made of..bubblegum?  
  
Hermione glanced at George and he winked back, forming a little halo around his head with his two hands and pretending to be innocent all the while.  
  
George waited in anticipation. Once the gum had reached Hermione's desk, it was supposed to turn into a flower. Perfect present for the anniversary of six months of dating, right?  
  
Wrong. The heart made of bubblegum had just reached Hermione's desk and was about to turn into a rose when Lee, reaching across George's desk to get a pencil to poke Fred with (Fred had finally started snoring) broke George's concentration and knocked his wand out of his hands.  
  
Instead of reaching Hermione's desk, at the last minute the heart of bubblegum veered off to the side and went zig zagging around the room before coming back to Hermione again, where it stopped and promptly exploded, covering both her and the large book she was reading in strips of Drooble's Best Chewing Gum.  
  
Professor Binns snapped his own book shut loudly, startling several students back into being awake. "George Weasley. Go see Professor McGonagall. Right now."  
  
He took in Hermione covered in gum and whether it was the fact that he had noticed her lack of attention that day or that his class was the one class Hermione was not overly found of and he knew it, Professor Binns would go down as the first teacher ever to give Hermione detention.  
  
"You too, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione walked out, her back ramrod straight. Hermione? The Know it all? In trouble? Never. Oddly enough, it didn't bother Hermione at all. She supposed she was supposed to feel guilty or something for ruining her perfect record of never having gotten detention (which McGonagall would be sure to give them both) but she really didn't.  
  
After all, she argued with herself as she went into the hall outside class and met up with George, it wasn't as if detention had anything to do with smarts. Supposedly, Lily Potter had been in detention a record number of times and she had been head girl!  
  
George smiled apologetically at her as they walked to McGonagall's office.  
  
"Sorry, 'Mione, it wasn't supposed to explode. It was supposed to land on your desk and turn into a flower-and it would have if Lee hadn't suddenly decided that he wanted to grab a pencil from me and nearly poked my eye out in the process."  
  
Hermione grinned. " Things that you spell always seem to have a way of either imploding or exploding. Wonder why that is?"  
  
"Probably because my wand is so old it's about to explode or implode itself." George suddenly switched subjects. "You really aren't mad about it or all? Or going to give me a speech on why opened bubblegum should be kept in more important places, like on Fred's forehead?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Nope. You were trying to just make me a present, and after all, what girl can resist flowers?"  
  
"Even if they start out as a heart made out of chewing gum and then explode?"  
  
"It's the thought that counts," Hermione said as they rounded the corner. Neither one spoke another word as they stepped inside McGonagall's office, ready for all fury to be let loose.  
  
McGonagall raised her eyebrow as she studied Hermione. "You, Miss Granger, look like a pink creampuff after it got rolled around in dirt. What happened?"  
  
Both of them set around to explaining as best they could,trying to get out of the detention they were sure was awaiting them.  
  
-----  
  
A/N#2=Well, I know they haven't done alot yet(other then goof off and act silly:)) but I promise alot more is ahead!Do you like the start it's off to so far?I hope so.  
  
----end of chapter here------- 


	2. Detention and Neville

@Dungbombs and S-P-E-W@  
  
(2/?)-Detention! and Neville  
  
by:GoldenSilence  
  
email=flipgal14@yahoo.com  
  
category:romance/humor  
  
keywords:Weasley twins, Lee/Katie, Harry/Cho  
  
spoilers:PS/SS, CoS  
  
rating:PG  
  
summary:Hermione/George, Lavender/Ron, Neville/Eloise, Parvarti/Seamus, Fred/Angelina..*the fanfic in which minor characters star* Mischeviousness, craziness, and hormones abound in the fifth year-along with pranks, the Yule ball, and that guy from Witch's Wireless Weekly.:)  
  
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
------  
  
A/N=Okay, as alot of you know, I am a big time Hermione/George shipper (no, duh. I swear I'm going to bring the Hermione/George number of fanfics from eight to twenty!) but this chapter does feature other odd couplings as well..specifically in this chapter, Eloise and Neville-who I think are uber cute!:)(Eloise is the gal that tried to curse her acne off.)  
  
Oh yes, one other thing, I know alot of people HATE Lavender and Parvarti, but I believe they simply aren't portrayed much in the books, so people simply asume they are airheads with brains the size of peanuts-which, I stress, they are not, even if I like to portray them as gossips..gossips and airheads are not the same thing, people!  
  
*End lecture on minor characters here.*  
  
Also, any other couplings besides Hermione/George that you would like to see in this story? Put that in your reviews too! I crave feedback.:) And sorry if these chapters are coming out a bit on the slow side-I am writing SEVEN other fanfics at once-a feat I now know never to attempt again..*shakes her spinning head.* Enjoy!!  
  
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The snow turned beneath several thick pairs of boots as they tred an uneven path through the thick build up of it that covered the ground. White snowflakes falling gently all around them, Lavender and Parvarti were walking off to Muggle Studies, Harry and Ron following a short few steps behind.  
  
The turrets of Hogwarts were visible wherever they went, along with the several students sleddding, ice skating, and, in the case of both Draco and Pansy, riding a sleigh with Madame Pomfrey at the reins. Pansy was shouting at Draco, and from the way she was bopping him on the head with her muff, it wasn't something exactly cordial.  
  
Lavender, Parvati, Harry, and Ron had the fortune (for them, anyway-to Draco and Pansy it was more like misfortune) to overhear what both of the Slytherins were argueing about as they sped past.  
  
Draco gestured towards his now thoroughly soaked clothes with rage. "Oh, you think you have it bad? I'll have you know THESE cost eighty galleons! My father will probably be asking you for full compensation."  
  
Pansy held out the equally sodden coat she was wearing, pointing to the fur that both insulated and covered it.  
  
"So? You can just go back to the store and by another sodding silk shirt, can't you? This coat was hand tailored personally just for me!"  
  
"Of course," Ron muttered to Lavender. "No one else in their right mind would find a moose with the measles, kill it, and then pour grape juice all over the hide to make some ugly outfit unless Pansy asked it."  
  
"That outfit isn't the only thing that's purple," pointed out Lavender.  
  
And it was true. Pansy's coat had faded from a brilliant, eye blinding purple to a much more sedate shade. The reason for this was apparent if you looked at Pansy's arms, robes, face, and neck. The dye had run from the robes into her skin, which made her very much the same color as Harry's Uncle Dursley was regularly.  
  
Lavender and Parvati, seeing this, immediately began giggling, and after staring a both girls for a minute, Ron and Harry joined in.  
  
"Too bad it didn't come off on Malfoy," Harry choked out. "I've always wanted to see what he'd look like as a giant grape."  
  
All four were practically in stitches with laughter as Pansy's angry voice echoed from somewhere around the corner, the sleigh heading straight for the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey would make sure that the sled's fall through the ice of the Hogwart's lake with its owners in tow had not caused either student to catch a cold. Pity the ice was so thin in that particular spot.  
  
Madame Pomfrey needn't have worried. The only damage done to Pansy and Draco had been to their inflated egos.  
  
Parvati shook her head after the sled and its inhabitants. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the only reason they're going out with each other is because their parents are paying them."  
  
Ron snickered. "Most be a fortune then."  
  
"Huh, I wouldn't think either of them were worth more than half a sickle," said Lavender, linking her arm through Ron's and giving him a kiss on the cheek, an action that caused his ears to turn bright red.  
  
Parvati eyed Ron and Lavender's public display of affection with interest and a lonely feeling. It was a bit hard not to feel left out when your best friend suddenly got a boyfriend out of the blue. Harry at least had Cho, himself, so Ron's spending time with Lavender didn't bother him. However, Parvati didn't have anyone..and she couldn't very well use her legendary matchmaking skills on herself, could she?  
  
"Not unless you're betting on the chances of them breaking up," replied Parvati, breaking stride next to Harry. "In which case, you're probably rich." (For this exact reason, far on the other side of the winter chaos that was taking place outdoors, Lee was studiously avoiding Fred's expectant open palm and his grin of triumph.)  
  
A familiar figure stood ahead of the four's path. Recognizing the boy standing decked out in earmuffs and a hat with flaps (he obviously didn't know realize you only needed one or the other), Harry smiled and waved. "Hey Neville! Where are y-"  
  
"What the-?" shouted Ron sudddenly, interrupting Harry. Both him and Lavender jumped to one side, just in time to avoid a student barreling out of one of the many doors leading to and from Hogwarts and the courtyards.  
  
Half skipping, half twirling (did she take ballet or something? Lavender wondered) Eloise, the girl infamous for trying to curse off her acne, was now famous for something else as well...walking outdoors in the falling snow with her uncovered, completely wet hair and a only towel to keep the damp hair from dripping on to her robes.  
  
She bumped smack into Neville, sending him sprawling into the snow. "Oops."  
  
Ignoring Neville after that little comment, Eloise spread her arms to the sky and started twirling around and around again (her hair looked like it would turn to a block of ice at any moment, but she didn't seem to notice.)  
  
"It's snowing! I can't believe it's snowing! I'm so glad I didn't miss it!"  
  
"Didn't miss it? But the snowfall will last for days," said Neville incredously from the position of being flat on his back.  
  
"It will?" Eloise looked even more delighted. "Oooh."  
  
She finally noticed Neville lying in the snow. "Sorry for knocking you over," she apologized. Eloise offered Neville one little hand and he grabbed it to pull himself back up again, trying to restraighten his earmuffs, which had somehow gone crooked. One earmuff was at the top of his head, the other covered the side of his face.  
  
"No, that's quite alright. Errm..sorry for being in your way," said Neville awkwardly, appearing just as awkward as the words he spoke (much to the amusement of Harry, Ron, Lavender, and Parvarti who, being so nearby, couldn't help overhearing some of the conversation.)  
  
"S-So you've never seen snow?" he ventured to ask Eloise.  
  
Eloise shook her head emphatically, sending droplets of water from her hair into Neville's face. "Nope! Closest thing to snow we get where I live is when my duck's water bowl freezes over."  
  
Neville's face lit up. "You have ducks? Really? I've always wanted one, but Gran says they're too sloppy."  
  
"That's why I have to keep mine in the Care of Magical Creatures hut. Though, sometimes I sneak Crinkles inside and let her sleep on my pillow. Wierd, huh?" Eloise blushed, expecting Neville to stare at her as if he thought she was an extra terrestrial. Other people always made fun of her when she told them that she let a real duck sleep on her pillow in the dormitories.  
  
But Neville wasn't other people. "Wow! And it doesn't poop on you or anything while you sleep?"  
  
"Nope. It's-" Eloise wasn't sure if she should say it. She knew that she'd get teased for sure now, but he seemed like a nice boy...  
  
"Potty trained," she finished importantly.  
  
"You must be really good with animals! So am I. Have you ever met Trevor? He's my toad."  
  
"I've always wanted a toad!" Eloise said excitedly.  
  
"And I've always wanted a duck! Maybe we can swap sometime, just for a day, you know?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"I'll have to introduce you to Trevor first. After class sometime. That is, if you want me to. I'm Neville, by the way."  
  
"I'm Eloise."  
  
"Oh," said Neville. "You're the girl who everyone says-"  
  
Eloise looked as if she was about to cry, so Neville tactfully dropped what he had been about to say. "-Is so pretty," he finished, then looked surprised at his own daring do..almost as much as Eloise did.  
  
"Do they honestly? Because you don't need to make it up. But if it's true, I mean..umm.."  
  
"I have care of Magical Creatures next." Neville changed the subject, looking at his feet. "What about you?"  
  
"Same."  
  
"Mind if I walk with you?" Neville's face was every bit as red as Ron's could ever be.  
  
"Not at all," Eloise answered graciously.  
  
"Wait a minute, your hair's wet," stated Neville as they began walking off across the snowdrifts. "You'll catch a cold."  
  
"Oh that. I was so excited when I heard it was snowing, I kinda rushed out of the shower," admitted Eloise with a sheepish smile.  
  
"Here." Neville took off his hat with the ear flaps and handed it to Eloise, who promptly put in on her head-backwards. "Thanks."  
  
"For the hat? It was no problem."  
  
"Yeah, thanks for the hat," said Eloise with a smile. "And also for saying that I'm pretty."  
  
Neville looked worried. "But I never said you were pretty, I just said that everyone else had been saying you were pretty."  
  
"Same thing," said Eloise, causing Neville give her a confused look as he hurried to follow her to Care of Magical Creatures.  
  
***********  
  
Harry, Ron, Parvati, and Lavender, a short distance behind Neville and Eloise (but they might as well have been miles away from as much note as both Neville and Eloise took of them) were all grinning.  
  
"Aww..that's so cute," said Parvati, thinking all the while, why can't things like that ever happen to me? WHY? I still haven't kissed anything besides a picture-and it says in the Infallible Witch's Guide to Dating that paper and blow up dolls don't count.  
  
"Never knew Neville could act so, well, unNevillish," said Harry.  
  
"Almost a prince charming," said Lavender, causing Ron, who had his arm about her shoulder (and was prone to jealousy) to glance at her sharply. "Prince charming?"  
  
" His throne is going to end up being very close to the ground if Eloise keeps on knocking him over and all," pointed out Harry from behind Lavender and Ron.  
  
"It was still sweet," defended Lavender.  
  
"Well, they certainly have alot in common. Especially when it comes to their heads always being stuck in the clouds," said Ron. "Did you see that girl? She would have come out here with only a towel in the same place Dobby wears his tea cozy, if someone hadn't of stopped her along the way."  
  
The bell in one of Hogwart's towers rang then, oblivating any further chance for conversation. Running as fast as they could, snow flying out behind them, all four raced to be on time to class.  
  
************  
  
George and Hermione had no such need for hurrying at the sound of the bell. Both were headed off to the greenhouse for detention. It was really too bad they couldn't have had a job shoveling the snow outside instead or something, thought Hermione. It would have been a ton of fun to make snow angels with George.  
  
She mentally chided herself for such thoughts. This is detention. Not a time to goof off. It's supposed to be a punishment.  
  
But walking alongside George, trying to catch the falling snowflakes in her mouth while he did the same, was not exactly much of a punishment.  
  
Goerge certainly didn't look like he was in the slightest morose. "Woohoo! We're out of class! Tell me, which closet should we head for? The one on the fifth floor or the one on the tenth?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "George, did you fall asleep while Professor McGonagall was talking?"  
  
George grinned at her. "Nah. I only do that around Professor Binns. Hard not to when he's practically dozing off while he speaks, himself."  
  
"Practically? I think he actually does from time to time." Hermione grinned back. "You do realize we have detention, don't you?"  
  
George pretended to seriously contemplate what Hermione had just said. "Oh yeah..How about the closet in Filch's office then?"  
  
Hermione ducked to avoid a Ravenclaw prefect trying to control the ornery (and airborn, of course) reindeer that she was riding. She continued her conversation with George as if nothing had happened. It might as well have been nothing. It was now winter. In the magical world, that often meant keeping on the watch for impending reindeer; which seemed to be the favorite animal to show off on during the yuletide season.  
  
"Do you ever think of anything besides snogging?"  
  
"Of course! I'm not that one dimensional!" said George indignantly. "There's always pranks," he joked.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "But you don't even have to think about those. You could perform them in your sleep. Remember when you and Fred put that candy in Mrs. Norris's food dish that made her go bald as an egg? I could have sworn both of you were sleep walking at the time."  
  
"No we weren't!" said George, wisely not mentioning that he had no idea what episode of mischeviousness Hermione was referring to. "Why would you think that?"  
  
"Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that you both had teddy bears clutched in your arms."  
  
George blushed. "Okay, maybe were were sleep walking," he admitted as he kicked aside the giant head of a decrepit snowman that was blocking his and Hermione's path. "But you're just making up that part about the teddy bears."  
  
Hermione just smirked back at him. "Errmm..aren't you?"  
  
"You tell me."  
  
"I don't have a teddy bear!" stated George, horrified at the prospect.  
  
"Just a dungbomb covered in brown fur?"  
  
George wiggled his eyebrows. "Miss Granger, are you suggesting you've been staying up past curfew to spy on me?"  
  
"I would never stay up past curfew-that'd be eighty points from Gryffindor," stated Hermione, just as indignant as George had been when she'd joked about him owning a teddy bear (and conviently forgetting the few times Fred, Lee and George; who already had her going along with them on most of their pranks, had convinced her to stay up past curfew.)  
  
"Aha!" concluded Goerge. "So you're spying on me before curfew? I knew it!"  
  
Hermione gave a sigh of defeat. "Okay, okay. You don't have a teddy bear and I don't spy on you. How's that?"  
  
"Fine," said George good naturedly. "Except for the fact that I DO have a teddy bear," he admitted nonchalantly. "So you must have been spying."  
  
"I wouldn't spy on you," Hermione reassured him. "Too risky. I might get caught. Or fall off a ladder trying to see in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory window."  
  
Here, George and Hermione laughed, remembering when Lavender and Parvarti had tried to climb a ladder across from the dormitory's window to take counts for their poll on which boys wore boxers and which wore briefs.  
  
(Or so they had said when McGonagall found them. Hermione had suspicions it had been more along the lines of Lavender trying to get a good look at Ron as he got ready for bed-with Parvarti there to see the other boys, naturally.)  
  
"Now, now, you can't blame Lavender," said George, opening the door to Greenhouse#5 and ushering Hermione in before him in a gentlemanly gesture. "It's hard to cling to a ladder and use omniculars at the same time."  
  
"I'll file that away for future reference."  
  
George stared at Hermione in horror. "You already know I have a teddy bear! How much worse can it get?"  
  
"Three words," said Hermione, laughing. "Boxers or briefs?"  
  
"Sorry, that's private information only Moaning Myrtle has access to," George said kiddingly.  
  
"Why you little-"  
  
"Oh, did I say Moaning Myrtle? I meant the Gray lady."  
  
Hermione grabbed a tube of freshly squeezed bubotuber pus from the table and pointed it menacingly at George.  
  
"Eek! Kidding! Kidding!"  
  
**********  
  
Hermione wiped a hand across her forehead, trying to clean off some of the dirt and only succeeded in causing even more streaks of it to appear.  
  
For the past three hours, she and George had been cleaning up the debris and dirt left over from Professor Sprout's Herbology students. One of the fifth years had somehow managed to knock over a whole entire shelf full of various flora and fauna.  
  
"Ugh. I sincerly hope that whoever knocked all this stuff over got a good thump in the noggin from one of the little pots," muttered Hermione irritably as she stubbed her foot on yet another broken piece of pottery.  
  
"From one of the little ones? Need I remind you of the three hours we have spent cleaning up dirt, flowers, weeds, and oh yeah, a giant overturned thorn that just happened to decide to come alive and start beating the living tar out of us?"  
  
George leaned wearily over his broom as he swept. "Oh, he should have gotten a good thump on the noggin, alright. From the heaviest pot in this place."  
  
Hermione shook her head at George, waving her wand and sending more pieces of broken pottery zooming into the trash can.  
  
"Now, that wouldn't have been very fair. He should have been buried in the rubble from the shelf..and then have gotten a good thump on the noggin from the heaviest pot here."  
  
"Too bad he didn't knock over a shelf full of bricks," said George dreamily, kicking at an uprooted plant of some sort whose roots kicked him back.. in the shin.  
  
"Or dungbombs," said Hermione.  
  
"Or bricks and dungbombs," said George.  
  
"Or bricks, dungbombs, and firecrackers."  
  
"Or bricks, dungbombs, firecrackers, and Professor Sprout's Venus Fly Trap."  
  
"How much you want to bet this was all Neville's doing?" asked George. "He's the only pesron that could knock over eighteen pots in a row like that. Got talent, that boy does."  
  
"Oh George, don't make fun of Neville," said Hermione reprovingly. "He's alot less clumsy this year."  
  
"I never said he was clumsy! He simply has a way for destruction. Hmm..wonder if he would ever consider joining Weasley's Wizard Wheezes when he graduates?" pondered George.  
  
"Probably not if Neville wants Trevor to stay alive. Five minutes in your place and that toad would end up turning into a peacock. Either that or a dungbomb would accidentally go off and he'd have his guts plastered to the nearest wall," said Hermione with a grin.  
  
The greenhouse was slowly (very slowly, if Hermione and George were any ones to judge) becoming cleaner. If not spic and span, at least now half of the debris had been swept away. The problem was cleaning up the other half, which was even worse than the first half had been.  
  
Hermione pushed more sweaty strands of hair back from her forehead before getting out a broom and beginning to sweep alongside George. "I can't believe I'm in detention for the first time."  
  
"Congradulations!"  
  
"Is it always this much fun?" asked Hermione sarcastically as she stomped on the head of one falling apart plant whose head was ferociously trying to bite her.  
  
"No..usually we bring party hats and see how many times we can blow noise makers before Snape lunges at us."  
  
George suddenly leaned over to kiss Hermione. Both brooms that they had been holding clanked against each other and fell to the floor, stirring up everything that Hermione and George and had worked so hard to clean, making the place even more dirty than it had been to begin with.  
  
George pulled away from the stunned Hermione with a satisfied smile. "There, isn't this much better than snogging in the broom closet?"  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow, rubbing gently at George's cheek to try and get off the smudge of dirt there (no doubt the result of her putting her one dirt covered hand up to his face during the kiss). "Still not enough proof."  
  
"Skeptical. What do I have to do to proove my undying valor, my lady?" George bowed towards Hermione in an ungainly (and definitely more than a little ridiculous) fashion.  
  
Hermione stared at him with a smile. "Mmm..stop talking like Nearly Headless Nick and kiss me again."  
  
"Your wish is my command," murmured George against her lips and after that, neither of one of them exactly had the ability to do much more talking..  
  
Hermione came away from the kiss with smoke coming out of her mouth..literally. "GEORGE!" she yelled, exasperated.  
  
George took one look at the light gray smoke issueing from Hermione's mouth at every word and grinned. "Newest candy for Wizard's Wheezes," he told her excitedly. "Sugar ground to tiny pieces and mixed with a touch of this and that."  
  
"You can blame it on Lee this time," he added. "He invented them."  
  
Hermione didn't have to ask how she had gotten hold of such a candy in her mouth. She knew. From now on, I'm sticking strictly to kisses on the cheek, she promised herself sternly.  
  
"And let me guess, you were supposed to test them?"  
  
"Yup," admitted George. "Which reminds me.."  
  
He lowered his face until it was dangerously close to Hermione's own.  
  
"And just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.  
  
"Making sure the product's not malfunctioning."  
  
Red smoke was now streaming out of Hermione's ears, but neither her nor George noticed as they were busy putting all their efforts into the kiss (Hermione having forgotten what she had just promised herself.)  
  
Both noticed when the effect of the candy when they stopped-and the smoke wasn't limited to only Hermione's ears. The minute she opened her mouth, a whole gigantic flame engulfed George's head.  
  
"Eek.George! You're on fire!"  
  
Eyeing the bucket in the Greenhouse shed, Hermione acted quickly. She yanked a protesting George by his robes into the shed, grabbed the bucket, flicked her wand to fill it up with water, and promptly dumped the whole bucket over George's head.  
  
George peered at her from under the bucket. "So the product does work! I'll have to te-"  
  
"Are you insane?" yelled Hermione, at that moment reminding George of his mother. "You could have been hurt! You're lucky you didn't get any third degree burns."  
  
"'Mione," said George. "The fire's not real. It doesn't burn."  
  
Hermione gaped at him. "But it's fire. Fire can't not-"  
  
"Oh yes it can. Come here and I'll show you again." George grinned.  
  
"I'd really rather not. George, seeing you set on fire wasn't fun," said Hermione shakily. "I like you much better drenched," she added impishly.  
  
"I understand, but still, dare say I'd look more appealing without the water bucket on the head."  
  
"Oh." Hermione took one look at George and laughing, went over and removed the bucket from his head, this action uninvitably leading to more snogging.  
  
It was doing such that Professor McGonagall caught them. Hermione was the first to notice. As soon as she did, she scuttled away from George and tried to pull her frazzled wits back about her.  
  
"This isn't what it looks like."  
  
Professor McGonagall stood with her hands on her hips. "Oh really? Then what exactly is it? Enlighten me."  
  
George looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back at George. "Errm..we were checking for mice?"  
  
"In each other's hair?" questioned McGonagall.  
  
"Slip of the tongue, professor" covered Hermione quickly. "He meant to say lice."  
  
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "Funny. A certain Fred and Angelina said the same thing when I caught them in an empty cauldron down in the dungeons."  
  
"Since you seem to be getting so distracted-" McGonagall's eyes went to Hermione's mussed up hair and George's cheek with a dirt colored handprint on it-"I'll just send you to seperate detentions instead so you can do a more thorough job of things."  
  
********  
  
Later that night, an exhausted Hermione caught up with George on the stairs after dinner.  
  
"It was your idea to start snogging in that shed. You owe me."  
  
"Oh sure. How much?" George reached into his pocket and pulled out what Hermione instantly recognized as leperchaun money.  
  
She gave an evil look. "Oh, not that. How long has it been snce our last S- P-E-W meeting?"  
  
"Two days?" George guessed.  
  
"You mean two weeks."  
  
George gave a nervous laugh. "How time flies when you have a beautiful girlfriend."  
  
"Good thing it does, 'cause there's a meeting of S-P-E-W at one o' clock tomorrow. Be there!"  
  
George sighed as he made his way up to the boy's dormitories after saying goodnight to Hermione. "The things I do for love."  
  
"For the love of the house elves, you mean, don't you?" Hermione shouted after his retreating back.  
  
"Umm...Yeah. Of course..."  
  
Fred joined George at the second foyer, just having given a goodnight kiss to Angelina (after she had realized George didn't like her, she gone to Fred and he in his turn had done everything he could to cheer her up- though, Angelina said it was really more like just trying to set a new record for the most rules broken and bad poetry recited in the course of one hour.)  
  
"Glad Angelina doesn't have any stupid club she's making me join."  
  
Angelina glanced back at Fred and smiled. "Remember not to be late for W.Q.A.F.F.P!"  
  
Both George and Lee (who had finished bidding Alicia goodnight) snickered. Or Lee snickered until Alicia called after him "You'd better not be late either!"  
  
"Now what were you saying about stupid clubs?" George asked the two as they entered the boy's dormitories.  
  
"It's not a club..it's a..well...it's a" Lee faultered as he pulled his pajama top over his head.  
  
"Group," finished Fred lamely, already in his pajamas and lying on his bed.  
  
George shrugged. "Same thing as a club."  
  
"Ohoh. You had better watch out. I think Hermione's smartness is starting to rub off on him," whispered Fred to Lee.  
  
"I heard that!" George threw a pillow at Fred.  
  
"So what does W.Q.A.F.F.P stand for anyway?" he asked, curious.  
  
"Woman's Quidditch Association For Fair Play," muttered Fred.  
  
"Now that really describes you guys perfectly," said George with a snort.  
  
"Oh, knock it off. We're supposed to represent the pigheaded males that unfairly dominate the sport and issue forth prejudice with every word, according to Alicia," said Lee.  
  
He turned to George. "What do you guys do at S-P-E-W meetings?"  
  
"Besides snog, of course," put in Fred.  
  
"We make up compaigns and speeches for better rights for house elves..while they feed us cookies, hot cocoa, and donuts."  
  
"Lucky," said Fred and Lee enviously.  
  
"W.Q.A.F.F.P meetings are that boring?" asked George as he turned out the light by his bed and jumped under the covers.  
  
"Not exactly," said Fred. "Lee did get hit over the head with a broomstick once."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"I tried to tell Alicia that not many girls played quidditch simply because they weren't interested in it," said Lee, wincing at the memory. "Last time I get anywhere near her when she has any weapon so much as a spoon in her hand."  
  
"Girlfriends," said Fred with a sad shake of his head.  
  
"Impossible to figure out," said Lee.  
  
"So are we," pointed out George before rolling over on to his side and falling asleep.  
  
************* 


	3. Order, order!

@Dungbombs and S-P-E-W@  
  
(3/?)-Order, order!  
  
by:GoldenSilence  
  
email=flipgal14@yahoo.com  
  
category:romance/humor  
  
keywords:Weasley twins, Lee/Alicia, Harry/Cho  
  
spoilers:PS/SS, CoS  
  
rating:PG  
  
summary:Hermione/George, Lavender/Ron, Neville/Eloise, Parvati/Seamus, Fred/Angelina..*the fanfic in which minor characters star* Mischeviousness, craziness, and hormones abound in the fifth year-along with pranks, the Yule ball, and that guy from Witch's Wireless Weekly.:)  
  
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. "Nighty night" is a quote taken from the Harry Potter movie.  
  
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A/N=Some of the reviews at schnoogle are asking for me to make George a little jealous-well, jealous George you shall get soon enough! Why? Nope, not saying..you'll just have to guess! *insert maniacal laughter.* And my apologies about the whole Lee/Katie thing-I thought this fanfic would feature some on that couple, but accidentally, I wrote Alicia in the first two chapters etc. instead of Katie! And I'm too lazy to go back and read it over again and fix it all, so there you have it.;)  
  
That being said, I want to say thanks to all you reviewers! You guys are wonderful. Especially thanks to the people that pointed out various mistakes (I went back and fixed Parvati's name in the sequel-gah, can't believe I mispelled it. Hope everyone had a great christmas!  
  
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Sun shone through the window, causing dancing patterns of light on the cold stone floor and across Hermione's bedspread. Or at least, she thought it was the sun until she managed to release the grip sleepiness had on her and pop open one eye to take in the surroundings of the dormitories.  
  
In fact, the source of light was none other than the chandelier in the middle of the room turned on. The sun (if sunrise had even happened this early in the morning) was hidden between tightly shut windows, the draperies drawn across them.  
  
Hermione's semi awake state did not last long. Forgetting all about just why she was determined to wake so very early in the morning, she rolled over and simply went back into a sort of half sleep, not awake but not asleep yet, either-- sort of just staring into her pillow with her eyes closed, feeling at peace.  
  
Peace that was destroyed a few minutes later when an alarm clock rang right in her ear, as did two chattering voices coming from somewhere around...  
  
Lavender and Parvati's beds. Argh. Smashing her hand down on the button on the alarm clock, she made a firm resolution to never use one again. Even Lavender's and Parvati's wacking her with pillows was a nicer way to wake up. At least they were feather pillows.  
  
Grumbling ill naturedly about the bright light that assualted her eyes and about stupid alarm clocks being way too loud, Hermione sat up in bed, still loathe to actually get all the way up. It was too early to be doing anything, and -Hermione's eyes took a look at the alarm clock- a whole two more hours until breakfast.  
  
It was then Hermione remembered just why she was indulging in the unusual practice of getting up early. The S-P-E-W meeting.  
  
Couldn't have it at a reasonable hour later in the day, now could you? Ooh no. Get it over with first thing in the morning you said. Never mind that George is more likely to snooze than hear a word you say, mocked the voice in her head.  
  
That is precisely why they invented coffee, she told herself sternly and made herself throw back the covers and jump out of bed. Hermione dressed as hastily as she could, shivering from the sudden cold that greeted her. The world outside was already frozen over, and the inside of Hogwarts didn't seem to be much better.  
  
On the way to the door, Hermione stopped by Lavender's and Parvati's beds, curious to know why on earth they of all people were bothering to get up so terribly early. Both of them had just finished talking excitedly about something or other.  
  
"How come you guys are already up? Whatever happened to the concept of beauty rest?" questioned Hermione, trying to hold back a yawn and not succeeding.  
  
"Out with last month's addition of Witch's Weekly," stated Parvati, not sounding nearly as tired as Hermione herself felt. How did the manage to get up early and still have energy? Eating sugar by the barrel or something?  
  
Lavender smirked. "We're planning our outfits for the day. Otherwise, we never have enough time to see that they color coordinate perfectly."  
  
Hermione gave a very unladylike snort. "You are not. Be serious, what are you guys really up to?"  
  
"Good to know you don't conform to the popular belief that we're complete ditzes," said Parvati with a grin.  
  
"You aren't ditzes. Just nosy," said Hermione.  
  
"Not nosy. Helpful," stated Parvati and Lavender.  
  
"Same thing."  
  
"I'm beginning to think you're the only person that doesn't believe our heads consist of just air," said Lavender with a sigh.  
  
"Only person? You mean two. Or does Ron not count?" said Parvati shrewdly.  
  
" 'Course he does. Speaking of which, I'd better hurry up so I can go meet him in the library for..umm..studying."  
  
Hermione's mouth quirked. "A word of advice. You might want to bring a book so it actually looks like you're doing just that."  
  
"Better yet, bring two books. One for studying and one to hide behind when you're snogging," Parvati giggled.  
  
Lavender glared at the two of them. "Who's being nosy now?"  
  
"Not nosy. Helpful," said Hermione with an angelic smile.  
  
"Same thing," said Lavender.  
  
"Alright," said Parvati, grabbing Lavender's arm. "Let's go before you two turn into broken records."  
  
"You've been reading about that guy that's the Wierd Sister's new guitar player, Will, in Witch's Weekly again, haven't you?" guessed Lavender.  
  
Parvati shook her head firmly, never the less turning slightly red as she pulled Lavender out the door. "Don't even think about it. It's impossible to match up a matchmaker and besides, he goes to Beauxbatons."  
  
And with that, she, Lavender, and Hermione all left the room, Hermione heading for the boy's dormitories and Lavender and Parvati heading for the library.  
  
********  
  
When Hermione reached the boy's dormitories, it took her a minute of rubbing at her eyes sleepily before she noticed Fred was in the room (as, of course, he would be) quickly trying to arrange a bunch of cushions in front of somebody or other.  
  
"Hey," said Hermione to Fred. "Who else is here?" She looked pointedly in the direction of the cushions.  
  
"Oh, no one," said Fred, moving to stand in front of the couch.  
  
"That explains why you were scrambling with those cushions then," said Hermione slyly.  
  
"I was rearranging them," protested Fred. "Interior decorating is a hobby of mine." Here, a mysterious loud cough that could have been a stifled giggle came from behind the set of cushions.  
  
Hermione's giggle didn't have to be stifled, she just laughed at Fred outright. "Right up there with quilting. Very believable, Fred."  
  
Fred looked surprised that she had used his name. "You can tell the difference between us?"  
  
Hermione knew he was referring to himself and George. " 'Course. Plus, you're wearing pjs with your name on them," she pointed out.  
  
"Could have swiped with Fred."  
  
"Come off it. I know you're Fred," said Hermione.  
  
"How?"  
  
"Because if you weren't, I don't believe Angelina would be hiding behind the cushions of the couch," assumed Hermione.  
  
"What Angelina? I don't see any Angelina. Must just be one of the rampant dust bunnies," said Fred.  
  
"Dust bunnies are on the floor, not on couches, Fred," said Hermione.  
  
"Umm..ermm." Fred struggled to come up with an explanation for the eerily shifting cushions. " A house elf got stuck in one of the cushions?"  
  
"Hah! No wonder as soon as I walked in, you looked like you were a few slabs of butter short of a heart attack," said Hermione.  
  
"Nah. That's how he always looks when I kiss him," stated a voice from behind the cushions.  
  
"Too much info there," said Hermione with a grin, sure now that none other than Angelina was behind the cushions-that was unless Fred truly was having an affair with a house elf.  
  
Sure enough, Angelina struggled up from where she was mashed into the couch, grabbed one of the cushions that had been hiding her, and threw it at Fred.  
  
"House elf this."  
  
"I can see where you might have gotten the house elf idea from. I mean, her pajamas are green," said Hermione.  
  
Fred, even though Angelina had already jumped out from behind the couch, still was trying to convince Hermione that there wasn't a girl in the boy's dormitories.  
  
"Yeah, that's it! She's really an overgrown frog," said Fred.  
  
At this, Angelina picked up another cushion and prepared to throw it. "Watch it, mister," she warned him. "I'm not the one in pjs that makes them look like a giant walking candy cane."  
  
"Tsk tsk," said Hermione, trying to look severe. "Two sixth years together in the boy's dormitory in their pjs. Just think of what-"  
  
"McGonagall would say if she caught us. We know, we know," said Angelina.  
  
"Actually, I was going to say Peeves," said Hermione.  
  
"But we're completely innocent," said Fred. "We were just playing leap frog."  
  
"In your pjs at five in the morning?" asked Hermione doubtfully.  
  
"What? The astronomy tower was crowded," defended Fred.  
  
Angelina gave him a hard poke in the ribs. "Ouch! What I meant is, she had a nightmare and-"  
  
"Beg your pardon, I had a nightmare?" Angelina turned to Hermione.  
  
"See, this is why we invented W.Q.A.F.F.P. Boys are always trying to give girls the weaker roles and that stands true in quidditch, as well. The lack of girls as both keepers and beaters over the years just prooves this. Girls always are put in the less dangerous job of chasers or seekers. If they were given the same oppurtunities for different positions instead of being resigned to seekers or chasers, quidditch as we know it would be different today."  
  
Fred shook his head at Angelina as she finished up her speech (which was all the more impressive for her having gave it so very early in the morning.) "Angelina, can you stop trying recruit members for W.Q.A.F.F.P for a second? I'm trying to come up with a convincing lie."  
  
"Might as well give up trying to lie. I already know Angelina's here," said Hermione.  
  
"Lying? Whoever said that?" demanded Fred, obviously as tired as Hermione was.  
  
"You did," said Angelina.  
  
"Lack of sleep makes me groggy," mumbled Fred.  
  
"So does kissing," said Angelina, giving a mischevious grin (as well as way too much information yet again.)  
  
Angelina spoke to Hermione again. "You really should join the quidditch team," she told her. "I bet you'd make a great keeper."  
  
"And a great member of W.Q.A.F.F.P, right?" said Hermione.  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"I'll think about it," Hermione decided.  
  
"Good," said Angelina. "We need another girl to kick these guy's ass-"  
  
"That should seriously become your motto," cut in Fred.  
  
"I beg to differ," said a voice from behind Hermione. "You only hit us in the kneecaps."  
  
"Not that your ways of doing so aren't various," it added quickly.  
  
Hermione turned around to see Lee and Alicia also entering the dormitories. Did they always have little impromptu get togethers at five in the morning? she wondered.  
  
"Forgetting my broomstick over your head so soon?" questioned Alicia of Lee.  
  
Lee winced, the event obviously still very clear in his memory. "No. The lump on my head won't let me."  
  
"And what are you two doing here?" Hermione asked Lee and Alicia.  
  
"Who, us? We came to help them with the-" started Lee.  
  
"Rampaging dust bunnies?" guessed Hermione.  
  
"Right. With our trusty invisible brooms," said Alicia, nodding and trying to keep her face from breaking into a smile.  
  
"And our microscopic dust bins," added Lee.  
  
"They are such a danger to society," Fred agreed. " Your precious George could have choked to death on them."  
  
"Very dangerous," said Angelina. "What with their huge teeth and all. Bigger than toothpicks."  
  
"I think you meant sharper," Fred helped her out.  
  
"Dust doesn't have teeth," Hermione said.  
  
"It does when it's hungry," stated Alicia.  
  
"I really should tell someone you four are out of bed, snogging at all hours," admonished Hermione.  
  
"You forget you're out of bed yourself," said Lee.  
  
"What can I say, the dust bunnies called." Hermione glanced at all four of the sixth years. "Don't worry. Your secret job as dust bunny exterminators is safe with me, as long as you guys continue your dust bunny patrolling in closets somewhere else. I have to wake up George for a meeting of S-P-E-W."  
  
Fred snickered . "Wake him up? He's snoring so loud, he sounds like dad's magical lawn mower when it broke."  
  
"Good luck," said Angelina. ""If me and Fred's erm"- she grinned-"dust bunny patrolling didn't wake up George, nothing will."  
  
"May I reccomend my new brand of canary creams?" said Lee (Hermione remembered all too well the effect of those from yesterday in detention.) "Nothing says good morning like being set on fire."  
  
Alicia pushed him towards the doorway. "Or you could always do the nice nonviolent alternative of making George breakfast in bed."  
  
"Nonviolent?" chorkled Lee. "May I remind you canary creams can be made to look uncannily like eggs done sunny side up?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Alicia said in afterthought as she and Lee dissapeared around the door. Alicia quickly peeked back around the doorframe to say one last thing to Hermione. "Guess that's what comes of dating one of the 'terrible three'."  
  
"Heey!" came Lee's voice from further down the hall. "That saying can go both ways."  
  
Angelina had tied a robe around her pajamas, put fuzzy slippers on her feet, and was heading out the door as well, Fred already out the door with Lee and Alicia. (Neither she and Alicia, nor the "terrible three" as Fred, George, and Lee were called, cared a smidgen about being seen in their pjs.)  
  
"If worst comes to worst, you can always try kicking him out of bed," she suggested before leaving and shutting the door behind her.  
  
"Now I see what you mean about the other terrible three," Fred could be heard saying to Lee, his voice echoeing.  
  
**********  
  
Hermione walked across the dormitories silently, not wanting to wake any of the other sixth years ( they must have all been wearing sets of earmuffs not to have heard the conversation that had been going on just awhile ago) and have to explain just what exactly she was doing.  
  
Upon reaching George's bed, she hesitated a moment, not wanting to wake him right away. Red hair falling across his tanned, freckled face, he didn't exactly look innocent--more like a little toddler who had just snuck out of bed only a few minutes ago to steal a jar of cookies and was now trying to pretend to look innocent...and asleep.  
  
Finally, going against her better judgement (he was quite adorable when he was sleeping), Hermione placed her hands on either of his shoulders and gave him a good, hearty shake.  
  
"Ahh," he muttered, turning sideways. "No mum, I didn't hit Percy over the head with the baseball bat. Honest."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Not convincing. I know you're awake!"  
  
"Um. Glumble. Zzzz" said George, shutting his eyes and trying to go back to sleep.  
  
"Nope, sorry. I still know you're awake. I know what you look like when you're napping. I see you sleep through those quidditch speeches Davies gives when you have morning practice, remember?"  
  
"Me? Sleep through those excellent speeches? Never. I don't sleep, I meditate," George said, both of his eyes still tightly screwed shut.  
  
"Oh, of course. I thought you were great at sneaking away from McGonagall the other day afer we set off those dungbombs-all that focus from meditating must be paying off," said Hermione.  
  
"Naturally." George puts his covers back up over his nose. "Why did you think I was chanting 'oom' as we ran?"  
  
"Was it 'oom'? Sounded more like 'doom' to me," said Hermione. "You can save your breath, anyway. I didn't write those awful quidditch speeches."  
  
"I know. If you had, I'd be listening with rapt attention," he teased.  
  
"Flattery will get you nowhere, mister. The house elves await.." hinted Hermione, pulling back George's blankets from covering his face.  
  
"Oh right. Very nice of them to bring me breakfast in bed. One coffee, two eggs, and a side of bacon," George ordered. "Goodnight." He turned over on his stomach and stuck his pillow over his head.  
  
"Technically, it's good morning," said Hermione to the pillow (well, it was nearest his face.)  
  
"Nuhuh. It's still dark out, isn't it? That means it's night. So nighty night." George's hands went up to clutch his pillow securely over his head, so he could make sure Hermione wouldn't try and snatch it.  
  
"Oh, for goodness sakes, what do I have to do to make you get up? Wave coffee beans under your nostrils?" asked Hermione as she tried to grab the pillow from George's clutches.  
  
"Mmm..coffee...good," murmured George.  
  
"That's nice. I'll just call for the house elves, then, and tell them to pour a pot of it over your head," said Hermione.  
  
George took the pillow away from his face and turned to stare at Hermione (he still wouldn't sit up, however.) "What?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I said I'd just call for the house elves, then, and tell them put some with your plate of bread," she add libbed.  
  
"But I don't wanna be a sandwich," George said plaintively as he showed all signs of going right back to sleep.  
  
"George," said Hermione. "If that's your way of trying to flirt with me at five in the morning, it's not working."  
  
George looked at her with one eye open. "How can I flirt when I can't even move?"  
  
"Flirting involves moving? I learn something new everyday."  
  
George pouted. "I'm serious. I'm not moving an inch. It's so warm under the covers and it's cold out there. I would die of hypothermia. You don't want that, do you? Then I wouldn't be there to thank for your anniversary gift."  
  
Hermione grinned. "I think I already thanked you for detention. The bubblegum heart was right up there with talking quills and canary creams as my favorite invention."  
  
"Oh no. I got you a new one," explained George.  
  
"Well, in that case, I suppose I'll be lenient on you today. Forget about the S-P-E-W meeting. I'll let you catch a few winks," Hermione fibbed. She began to walk towards the door, then suddenly turned around and ran full speed, intending to jump on George's bed as hard as she could and hopefully, wake him up once and for all.  
  
However, her plan went amiss when a strong hand caught her around the waist midway there and pulled her into the bed.  
  
"Oh no you don't," said George. "I may be sleepy, but I'm not that sleepy. I knew you were planning that."  
  
Hermione struggled under his grip and under the comfortable quilt, both of which were combining to make her very sleepy. "Really George, we have to get up," she protested.  
  
"Just three minutes." He pulled her closer.  
  
"Alright, three," agreed Hermione.  
  
"Four."  
  
"Three."  
  
"Six."  
  
"I swear, if you don't get out of bed right now, I am going to throw you out," threatened Hermione.  
  
"Can't," George said smugly. "I've got my arm wrapped around you."  
  
Hermione buried her head comfortably into his shoulder in spite of herself. "I could kick you," she warned in a whisper.  
  
"I could kick back."  
  
"You, you...meanie."  
  
"Ouch. I think I've been mortally wounded."  
  
"You will be if you don't get up RIGHT now" said Hermione.  
  
George sat up in bed, pulling Hermione up with him. "I'm up, I'm up! Are you sure you don't have a snooze button anywhere?"  
  
Hermione shoved him out of bed. "Ouch! Okay, okay. Look, I'm out of bed and on the way to the bathroom to get dressed!"  
  
George turned around, robes in hand, to see Hermione now slumbering peacefully on his bed. "Erm, Hermione? Hermioone?" he asked, laughing. " 'Mione? Wake up, come on!"  
  
*************  
  
"Order, order! The thirty- third meeting of S-P-E-W is now in session!" exclaimed Hermione, causing the scattered other few students that were in the library-most of them studying for the N.E.W.T's or finishing up homework at the last minute- to give her bemused glances over the tops of their books (or, in Lavender's and Ron's case, to scoot behind a shelf of books that was more hidden.)  
  
"Yes, judge 'Mione." George sank down into an oversized, shabby armchair. "All you're missing is a pulpit."  
  
"And a mallet. Too bad I don't have one, it would help to get my notetaker's attention," said Hermione.  
  
"No need. It's already been got," said George.  
  
"By what?"  
  
"Your hair. You didn't straighten it out today. It looks nice."  
  
"Well, thanks." Hermione smiled. "You're just saying that because it's as tousled as yours."  
  
"What? My hair isn't absolutely fabooolous?" George said dramatically, trying his utmost to look like a famous blonde haired professor-or infamous, as the case was.  
  
"Alright, Professor Lockhart," said Hermione with a laugh. "Back to the focus of our meeting."  
  
"Right. But Hermione, seriously, your hair looks much nicer without all that wierd spray stuff-"  
  
"It's called hair gel," said Hermione.  
  
"Yeah that. It looks much nicer without it. Very pretty."  
  
"I think I get the point." Hermione blushed. She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Right. For our first order of business, lack of house elve's apparel. They may have socks, but half of them refuse to wear them and their otherwise lack of apparel is astonishing. Really, going around umm..err.."  
  
"Stark naked?" suggested George.  
  
"I was leaning more towards in the natural."  
  
"Don't think stark naked house elves are natural."  
  
"Oh alright. Stark naked, then. Going around like that, think of all the diseases they could catch! Why, it's as bad as if they still were slaves. Now, Lavender and Parvati said they would donate some of their old clothes, but the house elves are much too small to fit in them. Unfortunately, the only people I can think of that are the house elve's size are midgets," said Hermione.  
  
"Or munchkins," said George.  
  
"No, not munchkins," Hermione disagreed with a smirk.  
  
" Seeing house elves going around at six in the morning wearing shirts with orange puff balls and shoes with bells on them would probably have half of the student population screaming."  
  
She turned to George. "You should be taking notes."  
  
"Oh. Right. Okay." Taking a sip of the coffee the house elves had provided, George rummaged around his bag to find a spiral and a pencil (they were for his Transfigurations class, but oh well) and began scribbling. Hermione went back to brainstorming various ways of getting the house elves into clothes.  
  
After awhile, though, she simply began to drone, saying a bunch of incomprehensible stuff. Listening to her, George started to get bored and ceased writing, opting instead for drawing a bunch of scribbles of new inventions for Wheezley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
Snapping out of it, Hermione leaned over to see just what sort of notes George was taking, startling him.  
  
"Ack!!" He grinned sheepishly as Hermione flipped through the notebook (there were some actual notes on S-P-E-W--but there were also pages upon pages of doodles.)  
  
"If you turn it upside down, it does kinda resemble Dobby sky diving," he told her defensively.  
  
"I'll forgive you. This time. You did get two pages of actual notes and that's plenty. 'Sides, I'm about to fall asleep standing up, anyway. Don't even remember half of what I said-"  
  
"Good, because I don't either. It was in gibberish," said George.  
  
Hermione continued to examine the notebook. "I don't see any pictures of house elf clothes. I thought you were going to draw some."  
  
George pointed to a picture of christmas stockings hanging over a fire (christmas stockings, that no doubt, exploded candy or something.) "Viola! Designer socks."  
  
"They need more than socks to wear!" said Hermione.  
  
"I protest," said George. "Socks can double as mittens, you know. Or tube tops-not that I'm keen on that last one, but-"  
  
"Fine. If you think all the want is socks, then you're now officially in charge of the house elve's sock drive. Ask people around Hogwarts for their old socks," said Hermione. She gave a grin. "Seeing how popular S-P-E-W is, you're probably going to have to end up knitting them yourself."  
  
"No way! I think I'll just give them my old socks," said George.  
  
"Not a chance. I don't want you going around barefoot in the morning, do I? You could catch a cold," reminded Hermione.  
  
George gave an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. "You know, I hear colds turn people on."  
  
"Oh, of course. A runny nose just screams romance." Hermione shook her head. "Nope, George. Don't want you getting sick."  
  
"I suppose you'll get an awful headache from all that worrying as I'm most likely to stab myself with the knitting needle," said George sarcastically. "Uh, you do use knitting needles to knit, don't you?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Well, unless you're Neville and use one as a baton to conduct your toad in singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, yes."  
  
"I can't believe I'm going to knit," moaned George as the breakfast bell rang and he and Hermione began picking up their cups of coffee, books, and spirals. "I'm turning into my grandma."  
  
He stooped to pick up a book of the floor and pretended to be unable to lean over. "Ooh, my aching bones," he exaggerated, pretending to clutch at hip in pain. "Guess you'd better get that. I can't reach it."  
  
"Yes, grandma George," joked Hermione. "And will you be needing a wheelchair this fine morning?"  
  
George grinned. "Nah. Though a piggyback ride would be nice."  
  
"We'd best get to breakfast. I'm starving," said Hermione.  
  
"Me too. Meeting ajourned to go raid the kitchens."  
  
"But what about going to breakfast in the Great Hall?" asked Hermione curiously as they walked out of the library (Lavender and Ron, coincedentally, chose that exact moment to come out from behind their book shelf, as well.)  
  
"Not going to breakfast."  
  
"I know what you're thinking, George, and yes, the closet on the third floor is in use. Found out that on my way up to your dormitories this morning."  
  
"No, not that. I thought you might like your anniversary present now. It's in your room--and well, you'll see..." George trailed off and gave Hermione a wink.  
  
"Forget raiding the kitchens, I'm off to the girl's dormitories, then. I have a present to get for you, too.." Hermione gave George a wink identical to his own and headed off for the first of many a set of staircases that she would have to climb, pondering over what he possible could have gotten her.  
  
With George, it could have been almost anything.  
  
********** 


	4. The "Fish" and the Penguin

@Dungbombs and S-P-E-W II@  
  
(4/?) The penguin and the "fish"  
  
by:GoldenSilence  
  
email=flipgal14@yahoo.com  
  
category:romance/humor  
  
keywords:Weasley twins, Lee/Alicia, Harry/Cho  
  
spoilers:PS/SS, CoS  
  
rating:PG  
  
summary:Hermione/George, Lavender/Ron, Neville/Eloise, Parvati/Seamus, Fred/Angelina..*the fanfic in which minor characters star* Mischeviousness, craziness, and hormones abound in the fifth year-along with pranks, the Yule ball, and that guy from Witch's Wireless Weekly.:)  
  
disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
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a/n=Aeeeii...once again, me and my famous procrastination unite. Sorry guys! I know how annoying it must be to have to wait so long just for one chapter, but I have a very busy life, as has been stated a ton before. School doesn't exactly help things, either.:) JealousGeorge! begins at the end of the chapter (you know, after moi makes you read through all the mushy stuff.:P) and will be present in future chapters-along with jealousRon! and..well..but that would be spoiling it. Also, look for more on minor couplings (without devoting too much attention away from Hermione/George) in the future. Thanks to all readers and reviewers! Major hugs included.;)  
  
Also, a shout out to the members of the Dungbombs and S-P-E-W boat at schnoogle. You'll notice some little insider jokes from that place..*chuckles.*:D  
  
-------------  
  
At first, when Hermione entered the girl's dormitories, she saw nothing amiss-most odd, considering gifts from George almost always caused some form of chaos-not that Hermione would have changed that for the world. So what if the things he made had a way of exploding or imploding-it was more fun that way, loathe as Hermione was to admit it, and besides, it worked wonders for the relationship. Nothing like a swimming pool that turned into an ice skating rink to keep the relationship alive.  
  
Searching the room from top to bottom, and even venturing near the horror that was otherwise known as Lavender's set of drawers and mirror, (in turn also known as the place that looked as if an entire trainload of makeup had been dumped on it-and then stamped on in turn by a two ton elephant) Hermione still could find nothing. Not a trace of a present within the girl's dormitories.  
  
Not insomuch as one small length of ribbon, a card, or even a wrapped box. Though, it was true none of those things were exactly George's style-his style would have had said box exploding with the force of a thousand dungbombs, preferably from somewhere behind the unknowing and naive "victim" so that the effect the object had on the person was magnified tenfold.  
  
Remembering just this, Hermione preceded with caution (and curiousity-what could he have possible gotten her this time?) Much good any of her tentative searching did.George's present still managed to have what Hermione was quite sure was its intended effect.  
  
Her pulling back an innocent enough looking pillow from her bed had the result of at least thirty or so flowers flying up into the air, assaulting her in a flurry of flora and fauna. The delicious smelling fragrance of them filled the air (along with the petals, who apparently were naturally adept at talking and flattering-both of which they were doing a mile a minute) as from the twirling of beautiful greenery, there dropped an envelope.  
  
An envelope of such a size that Errole probably would have died of a heart attack if he dared to try and carry it. That was if he ever made it into the air in the first place and didn't just collapse on the spot. The envelope was stuffed to the absolute limit with--well, presumably paper and some strange, small sized, lumpish object.  
  
Picking the envelope up from where it had drifted to the floor, Hermione pulled out two seperate things; a golden box-albeit squashed-and a letter. She decided the rather thick collection of papers looked the more inviting of the two and opened it according to preference. It read thus...  
  
"Dear Hermione, we've been dating for six months now and you know every self respectable guy gets his girlfriend flowers and chocolates for this kind of thing-" (Here, Hermione, eyeing the still airborn flowers and the golden confectionary box, gave a knowing grin.) "-It's the norm. But I thought I'd do something a little different from the norm. Consider it a special present for a special gal."  
  
" P.S.=The poem included is not my own, I admit it, but the "additions" to it certainly are."  
  
"P.P.S=The flowers are the newest invention of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. What do you think?"  
  
"P.P.P.S=The chocolates aren't meant to be eaten (right away, that is.) No, they aren't miniature bombs waiting to explode, don't worry. Just break them in half before you eat them, okay?"  
  
The first page of the letter being put down on the top of Hermione's quilts and her seating herself in a similiar fashion, she began reading the next page of the letter. As George had written on the previous page, there was a poem. A poem that would have seemed to ordinary but for George's added comments. The comments were written in the untidy scrawl next to the lines of the poem he had cut and pasted (Hermione winced for the poor book destroyed, but only briefly. The overall effect was touching.)  
  
"The maiden is the most beautiful in the world," it began.  
  
Haven't met you, has he? Obviously not.  
  
"She radiates with a glow, like the sunlight that streams upon her hair, turning it to a most seemly gold."  
  
Brown is much more beautiful, if you ask me. Gold hair? What's the use of that? Unless you want to sell it off, I suppose. Nope, brown definitely beats gold any day.  
  
"The gold reflects unto her face; a perfect oval of peachy perfection."  
  
Peachy? Didn't know this poet was around during the sixties. Besides, a pale face that dimples as it breaks into a smile or laughs is much more perfect.  
  
"With lips as red as the reddest rose's."  
  
Didn't know they had cosmetics back then, either. I mean, no one has red lips naturally. Pink ones that remind me of well, to be honest, Ron's face when he blushes (you know what I mean) are much nicer.  
  
"She enchants me-"  
  
Literally? Whoa. Sorceress coming through. You sure you aren't related to this girl? Only kidding. You don't enchant me-no enchantment needed to enjoy being around you. Hah! Just beat that poetry for compliments single handed (of course, that's not very hard considering I only use one hand to write to begin with-but it's quite a feat when you consider that my other hand is busy stuffing a canary cream down a spider's throat.)   
  
"-as I do her."  
  
Not lacking in self esteem, is this guy? Maybe he's a relative of Lockhart..Anyway, I will end this in my own style. I love you.  
  
Beat the poet at his own game again! Well, no, not really. Just wanted to give you a little something to show Lavender and Parvati so they stop thinking I'm going to blast you to smithereens on accident or to use as a bookmark in a book somewhere to glance at when you're feeling down-or overstudying (and yes, you do too.)   
  
The amused look on her face having grown steadily with each paragraph, Hermione stuck the letter inside her pillow case. Lavender and Parvati would tease her endlessly when they found out, but who cared. Hermione had seen more than condemning picture of Ron in several various "hidden" places on several various occasions. Hermione picked up the gold box, tearing off the merry red ribbon covering it.  
  
Row upon row of chocolates of every shape and size-except chocolate frogs, for some strange reason (perhaps George had remembered when Hermione had gotten one stuck in her hair and had had to have it cut out by a pair of scissors, after all.) Doing as George had requested in his letter, Hermione did not eat the chocolates until she had broken each in half first and pulled out the note contained inside each one.  
  
And a good thing she did too. She wouldn't have seen the message that they formed when combined. George had been counting on her being able to figure out the message- put two and two together- and naturally, Hermione had. She left the room, the flowers shouting behind her "That's right, smile! You look lovely!" and a book hidden behind her back.  
  
Her intended present for George, on the other hand, wrapped and bedecked with a ribbon and card, still lay on top of her dresser, there for all roving eyes to see (namely, Parvati and Lavender) along with the chocolates and letters in them Hermione herself had received.  
  
If Hermione had thought it over a bit more, she would have deposited the notes from the chocolates in the trash, or at the very least, the interior of her dresser drawer instead of on the exterior. With them currently spread out so, Lavender and Parvati could have read them over easily, followed the clues, and done some more of their quality spying. (Or, as they jokingly preferred to call it, "It's not our fault we're always around when anything intresting happens!")  
  
Luckily, Lavender and Parvati were currently busy at their other hobby- gossiping over breakfast, and, in Lavender's case, chatting with Ron while doing so.  
  
***********  
  
Following the note's instructions down to the last letter, Hermione walked across Hogwarts' grounds, which were still a wintery maze of snowmen, and students whizzing by on varied methods of transportation, of which sleds were the most popular. But for those few desperate souls without a sled, sliding down the hills on your bum worked just as well-even if you ended up sitting down standing up for a good while afterwards.  
  
Not far from Hagrid's hut, under the lone tree thus located, something stood that was out of place-even among the oddities that were commonplace at Hogwarts. Nothing less than a penguin stood there; a penguin wearing a bow tie, at that. At first, Hermione figured it was Hagrid's newest pet, following the lines of "Fluffy" and "Norbert", but then she saw the red hair peaking out from behind the penguin's wings. (And unless the penguin was some sort of illigetimate relation of the Weasley family's, Hermione was sure that the penguin was somehow George's doing.) Just as long as it didn't explode.  
  
As she neared the penguin and George, Hermione's fingers tightened around the book behind nervously. She had not left her present for George behind on accident. It had been her decision. Her gift had just seemed so-ordinary- compared to what he had gotten her. And if there was one thing Hermione was, it was a perfectionist. George had helped that trait to lapse somewhat, Hermione was more laid back than she had been-but still, her tendency to try and please everybody remained.  
  
It was mostly the fault of this (and partly because of other things too) that Hermione was fretting, a death grip on her book. Would George like it? What would he think? He might like it. It wasn't his style, but--  
  
Then again, maybe he would understand it, and the reasoning behind it. He knew her. The real her. More than Ron or Harry-no, that wasn't it, not more, just more of a different side of her, perhaps. Ron and Harry had trouble seeing past her intellectual side. With George, she could goof off, no pressure to do elsewise or to always be the smart, calm, rational, and mature one.  
  
He was subtly changing her by accepting her for who she was, and this was her way of saying she saw the other side of his as well; just as he saw past her serious side, she saw past his humorous side.  
  
**********  
  
Little did Hermione know that as nervous as she was the nearer she got to the penguin underneath the tree, George was just as much so, if not more. And for somewhat the same reason. How had she liked his present? What did/ would she think? It was a bit different, admittedly, but then she deserved it. He'd never felt this way about anyone but her. Of course, he'd never say as much to her-not yet. It sounded silly even in his head.  
  
Maybe, a skeptical part of him thought, because he hadn't dated anyone else before. But just the same, he'd never enjoyed himself around anyone as much as he did her. She, well, she understood what he was about.  
  
Nervousness if not overcome, at least temporarly misplaced (it was just George, anyway) Hermione leaned over to talk to the penguin. She wouldn't be surprised the slightest if it talked back. Hermione adressed the animal seriously, pretending she could not see the figure trying desperately to hide behind it.  
  
"Hello, have you seen George?"  
  
George's voice spoke from behind the penguin. "Nope, no George here. Just me, uh..Bob the penguin."  
  
"Really, Bob. And have you always had orange hair growing out of your armpits?"  
  
"Oh yes, it's a terrible affliction. Alas, even Merod's Maniacal Mane potion does nothing, it just turns it green. Got made fun of for weeks. I never want to hear the word 'seaweed' again. Emberassing."  
  
Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow and snickered. George, unable to remain hidden any longer, stepped out from behind the penguin. As soon as he did so, the penguin opened its beak and began not to talk as Hermione had figured it might, but to sing. Singing opera, of all things, with a vengeance-and an earsplitting soprano of a voice to carry said vengeance.  
  
"So what did you think of my gift?" George shouted over the racket at Hermione.  
  
"The poem was wonderful," Hermione shouted back. "I'll keep it with me always."  
  
"What, stick it down your robes? Are you entirely sure that's a good idea?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, silly. I mean I'll keep it with me mentally; memorize it."  
  
George gestured sheepishly towards the penguin, whose arms were now clutched to its chest as it sang. "I figured it was better than me trying to sing any opera to you myself, so..."  
  
"A dying cat would sound better than you, George," Hermione cut in. "No offense. I like you that way. Otherwise, you would make my skill at singing look bad."  
  
"Your skill at singing, that if I remember correctly, envolves belting out songs into a can. Think highly of ourselves today, do we?"  
  
"Yes." Hermione grinned.  
  
"So do I."  
  
Hermione purposely misinterpeted George's words. "That's good. Self esteem is important-missing in so many teenagers today."  
  
"You know exactly what I mean." George leaned over to kiss her, but Hermione stopped him.  
  
"No, not yet. You still have to open your gift from me first." She shyly took out the book from behind her back and unceremoniously handed it to George, anticipating (and dreading) his response and biting her lip, as was her worst habit (an evolved form of her other habit of biting her fingernails.)  
  
She looked so unsure there that George could do nothing but assure her with a kiss and inform her "I've never had a gift that means this much. Well, except for the fake spider on my second birthday."  
  
"Aha! I knew there was a reason Ron was afraid of spiders." Then, almost worriedly. "You really like it?"  
  
"Of course I do! Going to take me the rest of my life to read," George kidded. "But it'll be worth it. Besides, now I can figure out just exactly what was with that Wendelin the Wierd fellow-heard he played some great pranks in his day."  
  
He smiled at Hermione. "I'm just glad you didn't get me a rubber ball for a nose." He was half kidding, but Hermione took him seriously. "You aren't just a clown, you know that."  
  
"You're not just a 'bookie' either." Sure, that meant something to Hermione, but she didn't feel comfortable showing it (any more than George felt comfortable saying it.)  
  
"I'm not? Then what am I, then? A bookish clown?"  
  
"Nah. More like witty and funny."  
  
"Same with you." That was it. No matter how squeamish or unused to those sort of emotions she was, Hermione enveloped George in a bear hug anyway- the kind best friends would be prone to give each other. George's voice came muffled from over her shoulder. "If I end up squashed flat as a pancake, it's all your fault."  
  
Hermione just hugged him tighter, only letting him go when she got a good look at his watch, as she was ever consious of the time-that and of the growling noises her almost empty stomach was making. "You know, if we hurry, we can still make breakfast."  
  
"Then what are we waiting for?"  
  
"Just so you know, I was terribly dissapointed when I saw that penguin under the tree-," Hermione informed George as they began walking back to Hogwarts (and away from Hagrid, who had been privy to a good deal of what had gone on from the view of his window and had been quite amused by it all.)  
  
At Hermione's words, George's face turned panicked (rather like Harry's when he had found out he got Cho the Bearded Blisters instead of the Wierd Sisters.) "-From the way you talked earlier," continued Hermione. "I thought I was going to find you with a bow wrapped 'round your middle."  
  
George laughed. "And just so you know, I'm also terribly dissapointed. I was hoping for a piggy back ride. 'Grandma' George's bones are brittle, after all."  
  
"More like 'grandma' George is just lazy," Hermione harumphed. "But you're in luck. That's the other part of my gift!"  
  
George paused. "Wait a minute, 'Mione. I wasn't serious..."  
  
"Oh come on. I'm stronger than you think." And that was the truth, though many thought it otherwise. Hermione leaned over enough so that George could clamber upon her back. "Jump on!"  
  
"Or try to choke me," Hermione added ruefully as George did just as she said, hopping on and practically causing her to tumble over sideways. George wasn't a beater for nothing-while not overweight by any means, he certainly wasn't under, either. Especially not for Hermione, whose previous experience in using her biceps and back muscles had been limited to lifting heavy books (and occasionally throwing them and punches out with deadly accuracy at whoever was unfortunate enough to tempt her wraith-just had to ask Malfoy to prove the truth in that.)  
  
However, Hermione did somehow manage to carry George across the grounds, admittedly after stumbling side to side on the lawn for a bit and only narrowly miss running head first into a snowman (the buggers were animate and kept on moving hithro across the snowy landscape.)  
  
"Lead the way!" shouted George with glee, his reservations about getting a piggy back ride evidently gone-as was Hermione's eyesight, seeing as he was greatly impairing it by having his hands gripped 'round her face (in a manner similiar to a miser's around gold.) Hermione stated this with a grumble. "I can't when your hands are over my eyes."  
  
"Oh. Woops." George promptly removed the offending appendages, but it was too late, Hermione was already veering off course. "Whoa! Watch out for that tree!"  
  
"That's a twig," pointed out Hermione, looking at the ground. Looking at the ground instead of what lay on a direct path in front of them. A couple of minutes, a dented tree, and an entire branch wrapped around George's head later, they were back on their way to breakfast again.  
  
**********  
  
The penguin "Bob" trailing behind them dutifully, a considerably more tussled and beaten up Hermione and George emerged in the Great Hall, just as Dumbledore was rising from his guilded chair to make his usual morning announcements (or perhaps unusual was a better word, as Dumbledore's announcements were hardly what you would call usual.)  
  
Fearing McGonagall's or one of the other professor's searching eyes would seek them out and cause them to get an admonishment for being late, Hermione and George; who had only just ceased his piggy back ride outside the hall's doors, snuck past the other three house tables, crouched over as low as they could be without dropping to all fours.  
  
But neither George nor Hermione need have bothered. The students'-and even the teachers', for the time being- attention was diverted by the boy (Lavender and Parvati would have protested that he was a "man") standing at the front of all the tables, Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder.  
  
George and Hermione found their respective seats at the Gryffindor table- her next to Ron and Harry next to Lavender and Parvati. George normally would have sat next to Fred and Lee, but apparently their recent morning excursion had left them fatigued-either that or their excursion was venturing on past breakfast, which was a possibility considering Angelina and Alicia were mysteriously absent from their usual spots at the table, as well.  
  
Ron seemed to have temporarily taken over Hermione's usual role as he hissed at both her and George, "you're late!"  
  
"We are not. You're just early," counted George.  
  
Ron, one of the few not goggling at the new kid in the front, chose to goggle instead at Bob the penguin, who seemed to have permanently attached himself to Hermione's shadow. "What the hell is that?"  
  
"Oh honestly. What does it look like?" asked Hermione as she helped herself to some oatmeal.  
  
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. A toddler gone rampant with finger paints on a clone of George?"  
  
Hermione glared. "NOT funny."  
  
"Sorry," Ron quickly apologized, his bout of jealousy gone as quickly as it had come. "But that penguin sure is."  
  
It was at that moment, with everyone's (or almost everyone's) attention focued on the boy, who was waiting as the sorting hat and chair were brought to him, that the penguin decided to open its beak and let loose (not literally, it didn't throw up-though Ron would have argued that point from the eye shadow Lavender was wearing that morning.)  
  
Just as instantly, those near the penguin put their hands over their ears, with the exception of Nevvile, whose pink set of earmuffs were doing the job quite nicely.  
  
"There's a way to turn it off, right?" Parvati asked Hermione. Hermione looked at George as if it was all his fault. "George?"  
  
"Nope. How on earth could it have an off button? It's an animal, not a toy."  
  
Lavender, who had obviously not been listening to the conversation whatsoever, was temporarily distracted from staring at the boy at the front of the room by the sheer noise of the penguin's oratorio. "Doesn't it at least have a volume control? Turn it down!"  
  
Hermione sighed. "Need I remind you what George said? It's not a toy." But Lavender, having contributed her one comment, went back to staring.  
  
"Guess we can't break it in that case," muttered Ron, following Lavender's gaze to the new boy.  
  
"Looks like he wants to break something besides Bob, if you ask me," whispered Hermione to George.  
  
"Yeah. Hope that guy is wearing plaited iron underwear, because Ron is going to seriously damage him as soon as he gets near enough," he whispered back.  
  
The penguin, meanwhile, was growing progressively louder. Loud enough in fact, that it could almost be heard over the usual hubub that took place during breakfast (and that included the three howlers that were going off at the same time and the chair being scraped across the floor for the new boy.)  
  
"Ouch! Get me something, anything to shut him up!" said Hermione desperately to no one in particular.  
  
"Anything? Got to be a bit more specific. Otherwise Ron's liable to throw in that new guy's disembodied head." pointed out Parvati.  
  
"No, I wouldn't. Just his arm," said Ron angrily as he watched the new guy waving jovially over at Lavender, who shyly waved back, flushing scarlet.  
  
"Specific? Fine, anything that fits in his mouth." Hermione then grabbed a protesting George's arm, held it in front of Bob, and watched Bob's beak clamp down on it--hard.  
  
"Yeeow! What was that for?" asked George, freeing his arm and rubbing the spot where the penguin had hit it gingerly.  
  
"Well, I told you I needed something."  
  
"Beg your pardon? My arm is not a something, it's part of a someone!"  
  
From Harry's direction, a napkin came sailing through the air and fell neatly into Hermione's lap. "There you go, that should do it."  
  
As Harry had said, it worked perfectly-the penguin at last shut up and everyone went back to the matter at hand; the new boy, or so he must have been to be getting sorted.  
  
"QUIET!" yelled Professor McGonagall above all the noise. When the noise level had lowered to her satisfaction, she placed the battered old sorting hat upon the new boy's blonde haired head. "Gryffindor!" it stated, to which Hermione and George began, with the rest of the Gryffindors, shouting and clapping-even Harry with his injured ankle from the quidditch game just yesterday, did as much, though it seemed to him a bit silly to be clapping enthuastically for a boy he didn't even know. But then others had done the same for him when he was new, after all he, remembering how nervous he'd been on his first day, (though this guy certainly didn't look nervous as he blew kisses to the various girls) would do no less.  
  
Only Ron refused to stand--until Lavender pulled him to his feet with a frown. "Evidently, me and Hermione missed something," said George as they all sat back down and resumed eating. "Who's the dandy?"  
  
Ignoring the "dandy" comment, Parvati spoke, not as entranced by the new guy as Lavender was. "Not missed something. Several somethings."  
  
"Such as?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Well, the announcement of the Yule ball, for one thing."  
  
"And?" pressed Hermione before George could get his wits together, figure out what Lavender had just said, and ask Hermione to the ball. (She did not want to be asked in a manner similiar to Fred's abrupt style of asking Angelina last year.)  
  
"And Hagrid's teaching home economics," said Harry with a grin-such a grin that Hermione, who had never considered Harry much of the joking type, thought he had to be kidding. "Are you serious?"  
  
"No lie," Harry told her. "You just missed another one of Dumbledore's speeches, or you would have known he said so himself."  
  
"Hagrid teaching home economics? But that's not right. Like Malfoy teaching fashion," said Hermione, horrified. "Or Snape teaching hair care," added George.  
  
"Or," began Ron, but Harry put up his hand. "I think I get the point."  
  
"By the way, the new kid's Will Pierre," said Parvati suddenly to Hermione. "You know, the guy from the Wierd Sisters that Lavender is all moony over? He transferred from some other school, apparently."  
  
"Lavender? I thought it was you," said Hermione, somewhat confused.  
  
"Not anymore. I stick to his pictures," said Parvati.  
  
"That's disturbing," commented George.  
  
"Moony? More like spoony," muttered Ron. Silence. Parvati shook her head at him. "You play too much of those muggle game videos, Ron."  
  
"It's video games," Ron corrected her before going back to glaring at Will Pierre. Will, who quite unexpectedly appeared behind Hermione with a chair he had dragged from who knows where. "Can I sit here?"  
  
Geogre didn't say a word, but instead coughed from across from Hermione, as loud as if he had swallowed an entire cake whole (actually, that wasn't far from it. Ron had downed his glass of orange juice in one gulp out of shock.)  
  
However, Will didn't take the hint from George's loud cough and began moving his chair to fit in beside Hermione's.  
  
"You can't sit there," spoke George suddenly, not knowing what possessed him.  
  
"What George means is umm..breakfast is about to be over. Besides, I don't think there's room for another chair, and why don't you go sit with Ginny and Neville instead? They are nearer to the door so it'll be easier to avoid the stampede of students after breakfast ends. Not that you would have trouble, but..."  
  
Gah, I'm babbling, realized Hermione, mortified. It was impossible to think with those dark blue eyes and just him in general so near. Evidently, Lavender thought the same, as she was now blushing more than ever.  
  
"It's okay. I understand," Will told her, not a trace of a french accent. In spite of his last name, he was obviously not of that origin. He glanced at George, winked, and then went off to go sit by Neville and Ginny.  
  
"Which one of you would like to give our new student a tour?"  
  
McGonagall had quite out of the blue, appeared at the the Gryffindor table. At her plea, several students (suspiciously of whom at least more than half were girls) began announcing they would or waving their hands about wildly, Lavender among them much to Ron's chagrin.  
  
Lavender was also the one that Professor McGonagall saw. "Lavender, why don't you show Will Pierre around?"  
  
Lavender looked as if she were surpressing a squeal (it was to her credit that she didn't let it out.) "I am soo lucky," she said in half a whisper- Hermione wasn't even sure she knew she was saying it out loud.  
  
More like unlucky, thought George-and he was not just thinking of Lavender as he thought as much, either. Will and Lavender left, Will turning around to smile for a long time at Hermione (George did NOT take this favorably) before they went.  
  
"Remind me to destroy shamrocks from now on," groaned Ron.  
  
"If he ever tries that again, I'll sit on him," grumbled George.  
  
"Ouch," said Parvati. "Wrestling? I have a sudden image of you two in unitards."  
  
"That's because you suddenly became very sick," snapped Hermione, causing Parvati to get a bit of a surprise of her own. Not as surprised as Hermione was. She wasn't sure if she was more aggrivated over the reference to Ron or George-the wierd part was it seemed to be both.  
  
Hermione shook that wayward thought out of her head in a hurry. She and Ron were just friends. She and George were more. That was all.  
  
But things were never as simple as they sounded-especially not when you were a teenager with hormones enough to fill a lake.  
  
"Isn't he just gorgeous? He's related to Fleur," said Parvati confidentially to Hermione as they walked out of the Great Hall to their first class.  
  
Not confidentially enough. "Ooh, that's rich. Family members have traits in common," said Ron from behind them.  
  
"So you think Will's pretty too?"  
  
"No," said Ron shortly. "Stupid." He looked so sad and furious there, catching up with Lavender and Will walking ahead. Hermione shook her head after him.  
  
"It's kind of rude of you to egg him on like that. You know how jealous he gets. Maybe you don't understand because you're more laid back."  
  
Depends, thought George, but didn't say it. "So, what do you think of the Will Pierre guy so far?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "What do I think of him? That's silly. I don't even know him! What, I'm supposed to form my opinion based on three seconds?"  
  
"Sure. Why not?" George's voice sounded strained.  
  
"Because--George, you don't have to worry or get all jealous. I think he's about as three dimensional as a peice of paper."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I'm not jealous-," said George. Lie one. Arrgh. I can't even let one wierd nuthead talk to Hermione without turning into Ron? Well, no, my nose isn't long enough for that, but just the same..  
  
"I am," said Ron.  
  
"No reason to be jealous. Just--" Hermione started and began to walk ahead with Ron, leaving George behind unwittingly.  
  
"But-"  
  
"But nothing. Trust her or everything falls apart." Hermione gave a little smile remembering past incidents. "Including the furniture."  
  
George began falling further and further behind, until Hermione put a stop to her conversation with Ron to turn and speak to George. "Where are you off to?"  
  
"To defend the last thing that needs defending from Ron," said George wryly. "As you said, the furniture."  
  
Ron gave a sort of grin in spite of himself. "Too bad Will doesn't have a doll made of him like Krum does. I need something to vent on."  
  
"Actually, there is a doll of him," said George. "Uncanny how much it resembles Goldilocks with a mullet when you take him for the spin on the fan."  
  
Ron's eyes lit up. "I think I'll borrow that doll for a bit."  
  
"Another words, Will Pierre's doll is about to become a pin cushion," said George. "Why can't you just vent in a nice, normal way? Like by seeing how long you can scream before someone screams back or something, such as, oh say, getting a couple of detentions."  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Nice, normal way? Your priorities are completely twisted."  
  
"Not as much as Lavender's," said Ron. "Will should stick to his own species, like toads-"  
  
"Someone had better warn Trevor," pointed out Hermione. "But really, Ron, Lavender isn't-"  
  
She went back to talking to Ron about Lavender with only one backward glance at George. He looked-jealous? No, couldn't be. The Weasleys must have been born with excesses of the jealous gene and the handsome gene, concluded Hermione as she walked beside two members of that family. She then felt mortified when she realized this observation was not specific to George. How could she find both George and Ron handsome?  
  
And Hermione walked along confused.  
  
And George was unsure, for the first time in a long time, usually he was so sure of himself-he had been sure he would go to the dance with him, sure of her affection--'till now. He was overreacting, he knew.  
  
But he also knew Hermione would go with Ron at the slightest provocation. And this Will Pierre guy and Lavender combined seemed to be well on the way to becoming the slightest provocation. George had always been second choice to Ron. Not just him, but everyone knew that. They had seen Ron's jealousy in the fourth year over Krum just as much as he had. Hermione had only gone with him because Ron was taken, a tiny part of him said. Or had she?  
  
  
  
And George became as confused as Hermione. Soon enough, he wouldn't be jumping to conclusions, but simply just realizing the truth. Better sooner than later, right?  
  
But perhaps things wouldn't unfold the way he was thinking they would. He hoped not.  
  
************  
  
end of chapter here  
  
link:http://pub39.ezboard.com/ffictionalleyfrm425 


	5. Hidden Insecurities

@Dungbombs and S-P-E-W II@  
  
Ch. 5-Hidden Insecurities  
  
by:GoldenSilence  
  
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disclaimer:all characters belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling.:D  
  
"March right through the ceiling" is half of a half of a quote (or something like that) from the Anne of Avonlea movie.  
  
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to the person who said she wanted Will to fall off a cliff. Hey, at least he's not in this chapter! But he returns next chapter .With a vengeance.  
  
A/N=I will not clutter up space with apologies for the long wait. Those who know me realize I have a really busy schedule. Sorry and thanks to those who have stuck with this story thus far! Please drop off a review-I love comments, suggestions, all of it (except for flames, naturally. Leave constructive critisism, people.:))  
  
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George's first thought as he woke up the following morning was much less along the lines of pensive and meaningful than it was a half awake sort of foggy realization of what had happened the night before.  
  
Ugh. Actually, a long string of curse words was more adequate in describing the way he felt.  
  
George rolled over sideways, efficiently managing to entangle himself more within his covers. Through the transparency of the sheet (George had long made it a habit to sleep with his head underneath the covers) he found himself looking at the boy asleep in the bed across from him. It was as if there was a mirror in front of him somehow, a shard of glass portraying him with immaculate accuracy in his twin.  
  
Yes, it was him, but yet at the same time, was another being entirely. For one thing, Fred didn't have half so many freckles. And his hair was parted differently. He also most certainly did not hide himself under the blankets as if to wrap himself in a coccon, the way George did.  
  
George also knew for a fact that Fred's eyes were hazel, not a bright shade of green as his were. Of course, no one else noticed, besides possibly Angelina and a select other few that had known the twins since their earliest days.  
  
At one time, George would have included Hermione among the select few.  
  
Now, he wasn't sure. Either she saw the difference between them all too well, and had chosen the more appealing personality wise or she saw no difference between them at all, saw them as one person with the same thoughts and opinions divided into two bodies, and that was why..  
  
George couldn't manage to put his thoughts around that-the thing that had happened last night. Unfortunately, even as he tried to block out the memory, it came rushing back. The more persistant you are to try and get rid of something, the more vividly it comes to mind. Damn, thought George as he stepped out of bed and changed into his daily robes with a quickness that was out of sync with his usual slow morning routine. It usually took him a good two hours to wake up..which explained the numerous days he had had one leg through the portrait in the boy's dormitory before someone (Fred or Lee) reminded him he was still in his pajamas.  
  
Today, however, he was wide awake. Wide awake and wanting to get out of the dormitory as fast as possible, preferably before either Fred OR Lee woke.  
  
George knew very well why he didn't want to deal with Fred at the moment, but Lee he wasn't so sure of. To be honest, he didn't really want to have to face anyone at that point. The thought of jumping back into bed fully dressed and curling back underneath his blankets was becoming more and more appealing.  
  
But the longer he stayed in the dormitories, the more the chance he had of Lee, or worse, Fred, waking up. George jumped through the portrait so fast, he nearly tripped head over heels. All he thought as he ran down the spiralling staircase, barely paying attention to Peeves sliding down the banisters, was that he was in the worst possible situation. It didn't occur to him to think of how it was for Lee or Hermione. But then, Hermione was someone he was trying not to think of right then.  
  
If he did, he was afraid he'd have to hit something, or throw something.  
  
George briefly wondered if this was how it felt to be Ron when he got in one of his 'moods'. So upset over everything that you could no longer think clearly, your reason distorted by anger and rage. George was not one to anger easily, in fact, he considered himself pretty easy going. Never had anything to be angry about, really. Sullen occasionally or a bit upset when his mother began giving another one of her talks about how he and Fred weren't living up to their potential, but never really angry.  
  
He was angry now. More than that, however, he was scared, sad, and worried. Three other emotions not commonplace in his repetoire of feelings, but then, yesterday had been anything but commonplace, what with that Will Pierre guy prancing around like the git he was and Hermione prancing around like the git she WASN'T.was only after he had descended the stairs that George realized his feet were clad in only a pair of worn out argoyle socks. He took them off and stuffed them in his pocket, his bare feet freezing against the stone floor. No point in going all the way back up the stairs for shoes when he could already hear Lee and Fred, never ones to be quiet, even in the wee hours of the morning, talking loudly as the climbed out of the portrait. For an insant, George thought they both saw him. Lee's face formed an upset expression and Fred mouth opened to yell something down at George, but then he changed his mind and shut it abruptly, turning his head slightly and allowing George enough time to push open the medieval styled (not surprising, considering all of Hogwarts' ancient architecure) wooden doors and enter the Great Hall.  
  
Immediately, he took a seat next to a very surprised Neville, Angelina casting him a curious glance as he did so, wondering what had caused George to suddenly abandon the rest of the "gang."  
  
"What, only one troublemaker today?" she teased. "Where's Fred and Lee?"  
  
George shrugged imperceptibly. Angelina was taken aback. George did not shrug or look surly like that. Ever. It just wasn't his nature. Nah, nothing to worry over. George was probably just tired or something.  
  
"Ooh, are they in trouble for something again?" Alicia frowned, taking an attititude that was quite Hermione-like. "Because I told Lee if he so much as one more detention, he'll get kicked out of Q.W.A.F.F.P."  
  
"And that, I'm sure, would be a horrible loss," said George, straight faced.  
  
Alicia grinned. "Not, not really. But who else can I use for target practice?"  
  
"Do you really spend all of your meetings wacking each other with brooms? Sounds kinky." George went back to picking at his toast, cutting it into millions of tiny pieces.  
  
"Not THAT sort of target practice! She's talking about our chocolate chip throwing contest, you idiot," said Katie huffily.  
  
"Chocolate and wacking. Mmm..you know, I think I've changed my mind. When are your meetings again?" questioned Seamus from further on down the table (a good thing he was not nearer the three girls, as they likely would have pummeled him if he had been within reach.)  
  
"The chocolate chips are supposed to represent the snitch. You throw several of them into the air and then try to catch them all before they hit the ground," explained Angelina through gritted teeth. "It's practice for dexterity."  
  
"I knew it! I knew you guys only complained about it because you didn't want the rest of us in on the fun," whined Seamus to George (who was still pondering the merits of jumping up from the table, running up to his room, and hiding beneath the covers.)  
  
"I can show you where to get whipped cream if you need some," suggested Seamus. "Goes good with those chocolate chips." He then proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows outrageously at Parvati, who blushed (and furiously spent the rest of the morning trying to explain to Lavender that she had done no such thing.)  
  
"Hey George," said Neville all of a sudden in an very unwelcome moment of understanding. "Is something the matter? You're awfully quiet this morning."  
  
"Didn't even mention that I left out the cherry," said Seamus.  
  
"That's Fred's thing, not mine," grumbled George, going from being grumpy in general to grumpy in particular (and wondering how Seamus would look with George's plate of oatmeal dumped all over his head.)  
  
"Aha!" said Katie knowingly. "Got another one of Weezly's Wizard Wheezes' new products stuck in your throat, don't you? I told you the canary creams could choke a dragon, but nooo, you wouldn't listen to me. Well, serves you right." She began to get up from the table and proceeded to put her arms around his waist. George tried to jump up from the table, but couldn't as it was rather hard to with them both situated as they were, and instead ended up banging both of his shins.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" he yelped.  
  
Katie stared at him calmly. "The heimilich manavuer. No stay still. This'll only hurt for a minute-"  
  
"-Before I die," muttered George, managing to fidget his way out of Katie's grasp. "I'm fine, Katie, honestly."  
  
"Then explain why you are barefoot in the middle of winter."  
  
".....". George stuffed more toast into his mouth, wishing he could simply vanish.  
  
"Is going barefoot the newest protest for house elves obtaining better wear? Man, Hermione really has you wrapped around her finger. Next thing you know, you'll be jumping into the lake in the nude," said Seamus.  
  
"The lake's frozen," pointed out Parvati with a roll of her eyes, before going back to talking to Ginny.  
  
"Exactly," said Seamus knowingly.  
  
That was it. George had it up to there with all this talk. Every time they mentioned Hermione, it brought up what had happened in his mind, the picture of her and Fred crystal clear in his mind's eye. He had intended to go to breakfast this morning and act as if nothing had happened, try his best to ignore Fred-if it was at all possible to ignore one's own brother who was also consequentially, a best friend-and not show how much it hurt.  
  
But George, never very good at hiding his feelings (he'd never had a reason to before), was finding it impossible to do so. His enthusiasm was gone, at least temporarily, as were his good spirits.  
  
"Oh, will you all just shut it?! Please? I'm all for chatter, but not at seven in the morning. And not today, of all days."  
  
"Geez! Then don't listen," said Katie, rather offended. George was in the worst funk she'd seen since when his sister Ginny had been taken by the basilisk during her second year.  
  
George looked at her blandly, gesturing to his ears, which were stuffed with napkins. "Tried to do that. Now you just sound like a bunch of bees."  
  
"Does that mean we get to get swatted?" questioned Parvati, causing Ginny to giggle.  
  
"Whoa, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Angelina said to George, then smiled evilly and gave a little chuckle. "Or should I say in the wrong bed altogether?"  
  
The fork George had been fiddling with crashed to the floor and he bent over to pick it up. When he straightened, Angelina took one look in his eyes and shut up promptly, elbowing Katie to stop her laughing. She'd never seen George look so serious.  
  
"DON'T even go there. Not now. Especially not when I have a lethal object on hand."  
  
Alicia raised her eyebrows and glanced at the hand in question. "That's a spoon," she stated plainly. "And since when are kitchen utensils lethal in the hands of anyone other than Hagrid?"  
  
George shrugged again. "That's not what I was talking about."  
  
Neville scooted a bit farther away from George. "Um, George? Maybe you had better go back upstairs and have a little lie down. You know, just until you retain your sanity..."  
  
"Or stab the pillows to death with your spoon, whichever comes first," quipped Lee as he sat down besides Alicia, giving her a good morning kiss.  
  
His face was as jovial as ever, but behind it lay worry. Stuck between two friends was never an easy place to be. Knowing only one side of the story didn't help things either, and Lee was determined to find out George's viewpoint on the matter (though he already had a good idea it wasn't exactly one lenient towards either Fred or Hermione.)  
  
George stood up from his table just as Fred sat down. He frowned. "Now George, look here. About last night..it wasn't what you thought."  
  
George raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? My apologies for the misunderstanding then. Because I completely understand how you and Hermione decided to play bumper cars with your lips in the dark. Happens all the time in," George raised his voice angrily so that it was no longer a whisper. "Astronomy Tower."  
  
" Yup, don't worry, I understand perfectly. It was pretty obvious. I wasn't supposed to be there. Sorry. I always did have bad timing. Next time, just tell me you'll be snogging her from midnight to one, and I'll remember to stay far away. Because I never want to see that again. EVER. In fact, I'd rather see Snape kiss McGonagall. I'd rather kiss Mrs. Norris and risk dying from inhalation of hairballs."  
  
George knew he was ranting, and should just leave before it got any worse, but for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to stop. Once the words began pouring out of him, he couldn't call them back in. It was so easy to say things, so very much harder to retract them.  
  
Lee stared at George in shock while Fred hissed "Keep it down, will you? If you'll just let me explain instead of going off like Professor Trelawnrey with that stupid fish bowl of a crystal ball, you'll find it's not what you think."  
  
George raised an eyebrow, his voice turning cold. "Ooh wait, I was supposed to be there, then?"  
  
Lee sighed. "Alright, that's it. Enough is enough!" Fred opened his mouth to speak, but Lee shook his head at him.  
  
"No. You shut up."  
  
George opened his mouth, and Lee shook his head at him as well. "You too."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Fred, trying to explain isn't going to do any good right now. At all. Do you honestly think he is going to listen to you?"  
  
"I know," said Fred in a strange tone of voice. "I just can't let him go on thinking that-that I ever meant to do a thing like that."  
  
"No, no. Not that," said Lee impatiently. "He can't listen. His ears are stuffed with paper napkins." Lee spoke to George. "Take them out."  
  
"Would it help if I said they were earmuffs?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh Fine. I mean, they are all that's between me and instant death, after all. When I die of hypothermia from lack of warmth in my ears, it'll be on your head."  
  
Fred turned to George, too nervous to even get anything to eat. Last night's events hadn't been any easier or less shocking for him. " Hey, I  
  
don't expect you to want to listen, after what you saw, but just give me a chance to explain things."  
  
"Y ou'll be a whole lot saner..and it'll save all those hours of mopping when you try to clean up the blood," said Jordan sagely.  
  
"Also save that spoon from getting all bent out of shape when you hit me over the head with it," said Fred. "And yes, you are too going to. I can tell. Twin telepathy."  
  
George glared. "If you'd really read my thoughts right now, you would realize how very much I wish you'd go away."  
  
"Gladly. I'll just go under the table, shall I?"  
  
"Need I remind you both that we are at breakfast and if you two raise your voices a fraction louder,everyone will realize that it's not exactly the next bout of mischief you're planning?" broke in Lee.  
  
George sighed. "Alright, I'm leaving." When he spoke to Fred, his voice was flat, a myriad number of emotions hidden behind its timbre. "I'm leaving because Lee's right, if I stay any longer, we'll end up arguing loud enough that not only will Professor Binns wake up at the head table from the noise, he'll jump so high, he'll end up hitting the ceiling. And you want to know another reason I'm leaving? Because I saw what happened and no amount of explaining can change that. I don't care if you swallowed poison and she was trying to drain it out of your system through your lips."  
  
Fred made an exsasperated noise. "Will you stop getting so melodramatic? Kind of hard to explain when you keep going on."  
  
"Melodramatic? Oh right, catching you snogging my girlfriend is so common these days. I should be patting you on the back, congragulating you, and telling you to treat Hermione well, is that it? Hermione's no one's property, she's not just something to pass along."  
  
Fred shook his head, his voice soft. "Damn, I know that. George, you don't want to talk right now, fine, but can I met up with you later? Preferably sometime when you don't have napkins in your ears, circles under your eyes, and aren't walking around barefoot like some kind of abomindable snowman?"  
  
George barely nodded. "Alright. Later."  
  
It was only after George had dissapeared from the Gryffindor table and Katie was whispering to Alicia in a worried voice "what was that all about?" that it hit Fred that George had not specified a place. Great, just great. First Hermione kisses me for absolutely NO apparent reason, then George walks in, next thing you know George is on a quest to get me lost in Hogwarts, presumably forever.  
  
Angelina leaned over towards Fred, her voice dangerously quiet and calm. "Apparently, I missed a lot yesterday. A whole lot. Care to fill me in?"  
  
And Fred gulped, forgetting his past worries as he looked right into Angelina's eyes ( he could still give her his honesty, if nothing else) and steeled himself for the words he knew would upset her. Upset her more than anything he had done before. Fred, not usually the kind to be too wary of another's feelings, spoke gently, wishing he could spare her all of this, wishing nothing had ever happened, hoping she wouldn't cry, praying she wouldn't cry.  
  
She didn't. She spoke just as gently back, and that was ten times worse.  
  
********  
  
Lee pushed aside his chair, whispered something to Alicia that made her nod in understanding, and rushed off after George.  
  
"George, he does have a reason. Even if it's not one you like," Lee said, slightly out of breath from running to catch up with George outside the Great Hall. When George didn't reply, Lee bit his lip pensively before speaking. "Do you forgive him?"  
  
It was not an easy question with an easy solution. George paused considerably before replying.  
  
"Yes, but that doesn't make me any less upset." Maybe he didn't realize what he was doing, I don't know. But I'm not careless about other people's feelings, not like that, and you can rest assured if Angelina finds out about this whole mess, it won't be from me."  
  
"What about Hermione? Do you forgive her?" questioned Lee, content to walk with George to well, who knew where. George himself certainly didn't seem to have any consious thought as to where he was heading. It was still early in the morning, and most of the students were only just arriving at breakfast.  
  
"I..I don't know."  
  
"Oh come on, George, you know she wouldn't do something like that,"  
  
Lee comforted. He rethought his statement. "Errrm, well not unless she wanted to."  
  
"Lee, you're as sympathetic as Snape after finals."  
  
Lee grinned and affected an accent that stank to high heaven of bad acting. "Unfortunately, I can't have his complexion unless I steal Lavender's powder puff, but I do try my hardest. After all, he is my role model. Nothing more cool than that unruly hair, breathing in strands of it every time you open your mouth. Reminds girls of a cow chewing on a cud, and we all know how incredibly sheexy that is."  
  
George gave a slight grin at Lee, glad the conversation was no more on what had happened the night before. Talking about it only seemed to make things all the more real, and to tell the truth, it still seemed dreamlike in his mind, he still couldn't believe that Hermione had kissed Fred. It went against pretty much everything he knew about her, and about his brother, which was a hell of a lot.  
  
"Did I mention Snape was the one that gave Neville a zero because he cried on his exam when he messed up his potion? I should have. So, let's see...that makes you slightly more sympathetic than Snape, which in turn makes you, oh, about as sympathetic as a brick wall."  
  
Lee reverted back to their previous conversation as they entered Professor Binn's clasroom (and scared off Peeves, who had been busy setting a pail of trash on top of the door with the utmost precision.)  
  
"Besides, it could have been worse, it could have been Ron."  
  
George stared at Lee with his jaw dropped. "And that is worse HOW?"  
  
Lee, obviously realizing he'd said the wrong thing, flushed. "Because, umm, she used to have a crush on him and stuff."  
  
"I thought it was other way around."  
  
"Both ways, I thought. Well, kinda."  
  
"Thank you very much," mumbled George. "All I need now is for Hermione to fall in love with Dobby and elope on the back of white ferret and my life will be complete."  
  
"I don't think she'd do that, but Ginny might."  
  
"WHAT??"  
  
"Well, not the Dobby part, obviously. But the ferret part is definitely a possibility. Though I'm not sure about on his back. I was thinking more along the lines of in his arms, kicking and screaming."  
  
"Errmm..What?"  
  
Lee sighed. "No offense, but it would probably be a better idea to wait and tell you after you've remembered to switch the on button to your brain."  
  
"That's like an idiot insulting another idiot by calling him an i-dot."  
  
"Are you suggesting I have no brains?"  
  
"Oh no, you have something in there alright. From the way you left that dent in that tree last week, I'm thinking a rock."  
  
And things were back to normal, at least between George and Lee. For Fred and Hermione, George would not smooth things over so easily. Forgiving was one thing, but trusting was another altogether, a thing George was not sure he could any longer entrust either one with.  
  
***********  
  
When Hermione awoke, like George, her first thoughts were of the night before, of kissing Fred, of regret. She shuddered at the memory. How could she have mistaken Fred for George? Ironic, that she who had reassured George many a time that he and Fred were not interchangable, that the little sublities of personality made them who they were, had gone and kissed Fred.  
  
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was beginning to become a common mantra, as natural as breathing, one Hermione had been uttering ever since last night when George had ascended the stairs and seen them kissing before the portrait to the boy's dormitory. Reasons came up in defense of the mistake she made. In the dark, who could tell the difference? Of course, they were different on the inside, in their personalities-Fred was not George and George could never be Fred, in spite of both of them sharing a similiar optimistic view and live for the moment attitude-but on the outside, they were..identical.  
  
Or nearly identical. Hermione happened to know a few minor blemishes to the perfect mirror images. Unfortunately, when it was dark (which was Hermione's main arguement in defense of her innocence) you couldn't see anything except the red of the coppery hair, the shadows that moved across the planes of the face.  
  
Hermione replayed the events leading up to the kiss in her mind, willing herself to be calm and not do what first came to mind, which was scream as loud as she could and throw a pillow at Lavender, who had cucumbers over her eyes and a green face mask.  
  
More out of concern for her pillow than Lavender, Hermione reconsidered and settled for only giving a very small, very unself-satisfactory "ugh."  
  
She mulled over things for a few minutes while she lay in bed, unable for once in her life to have the incentive to jump out and get going. She felt sluggish. Oh, how she wished the sun would just reverse its cycle so she could get some sleep (and not have to deal with this for awhile.) But Hermione was mature, and not one to not face up to her mistakes. Okay, so she'd made a mistake.  
  
No, not a mistake. The dumbest, most careless mistake possible. Figures whenever I do slip up, it has to be in the most antagonizing way possible.  
  
The problem was, Hermione could face up to her mistakes easily. It was admitting them that wasn't even a remote possibility. She was Hermione Granger, top student. Any mistakes she made were realized quickly and never repeated. They were also covered up just as quickly so others could not see.  
  
What are you going to do, run around placing memory charms on Fred and George?  
  
More likely to place one on myself, thought Hermione as she remembered.  
  
The quidditch game last night, being so dead tired, Gryffindor partying until midnight, Ron running around like a headless chicken after taking one of Weezly's Wizard Wheezes' new Hypo Honeycakes,  
  
while Lavender jokingly tried to reign him in with confetti, all animiosity between them over Will forgotten temporarily.  
  
Later, telling Fred/George how excellently he had played, kissing him. Feeling something was terribly wrong, like she was kissing a stranger. Looking into his eyes and seeing her worst fears confirmed, hazel instead of the lively, restless green they should have been. And lastly, the memory that was imprinted upon her mind like a stamp, George's face when he saw the two of them.  
  
In her mind, everything had been catalogued so simply, one event leading to another. Facing up to the consequences of what had happened would be anything but simple.  
  
When Lavender at last woke up to the grimy feeling of one of the cucumbers from her eye slipping down her pajama top, she was greeted by the sound of hiccuping.  
  
Not even bothering to look for the source, Lavender fished the cucumber out of her pajamas, all the while grumbling "Oh, good lord, did you use up all the kleenex AGAIN? I told you Parvati, those romance books are complete and utter nonsense. If they weren't, everyone wouldn't just go off to a rainbow, eat cereal for the rest of their days, and prance around doing the jig with a bunch of leprechauns. I mean, come on. That one tale where the munchkin marries the town tailor? If he kissed her, he'd swallow her whole!  
  
Lavender paused for breath, obviously expecting Parvati to say something. When she didn't, and Lavender only heard another onslaught of sniffles and sobs, Lavender continued. "Well, if you're going to cry all over the place, go get a towel or something." The sobs continued, louder. Lavender screwed up her face. "Or a bucket. Just not on the coverlets. Remember, those sheets are satin. And MINE, I might add."  
  
The lone cucumber still on her face at last slipping off to hide itself among the bedspread, Lavender noticed she might as well have been talking to herself for all the good her little speech had done. Hermione, not Parvati, was sitting amid a neatly made bed, which she was promptly destroying as she sobbed into the coverlet.  
  
Lavender automatically went over and sat beside Hermione, giving her a hug, her response very much different than it would have been if Parvati had allowed the watergates to flow. Parvati cried approximately every two days, or more. It depended on how often she found a new romance novel to read.  
  
In contrast, Hermione's giving way to tears was a rare occurence, one that took place about as often as Draco didn't stare in a mirror. Therefor, in Lavender's sensible mind, Hermione afforded much more sympathy. It must have been something really horrible to upset her so.  
  
"Why, whatever is the matter?"  
  
Hermione sniffled, muttering a bunch of undistinguishable things, from which "ruined the covers" was the only phrase unmuddled by her fall of tears.  
  
Lavender raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the rip down at the bottom of the blankets. Well, this was strange, not what she would have expected Hermione to be all worried about, but still, you never knew about some people...  
  
She patted Hermione's back soothingly. "Now, now, I know it's distressing to think of the covers being ruined, but never you mind. They're made of the same material as Draco's cloak and well," she grinned. "I'm sure he won't mind if I sneak down to the Slytherin dormitories and cut off a tinsy piece to patch this up."  
  
Hermione stopped her flow of tears to look at Lavender in astonishment. "You think?- No, it has absolutely nothing to do with that. I never even noticed the covers were ripped." Here, Lavender gave an unapproving shake of her head.  
  
"Well, what is is then?" cut in Lavender impatiently, checking her watch. "While I'm all for skipping breakfast in order to get trim and fit, I'm not for it when we have Hagrid teaching home economics for lunch. Going without two meals is bad for my constitution."  
  
"-but good for fainting practice," pointed out Hermione, feeling more like herself as her tears subsided.  
  
"Don't be silly," said Lavender. "You know that idea was all Parvati's. Just trying to hook Seamus, of course." She rolled her eyes. "Even I could have told her you faint down steps, not UP them."  
  
Hermione brushed away the last of her tears. "I don't really know how to say it..."  
  
Lavender grinned. "This could turn into a really good game of charades. Which means we'll be here all day, seeing as I am the worst guesser in the world."  
  
Hermione snorted. "Modesty really doesn't work for you, Lavender."  
  
"Oh, alright, fine. I'm the best. In fact, I already know what's wrong. There, how's that?"  
  
Hermione gave a sniffle, not really sure Lavender was the sort of person to trust. Lavender wasn't a bad friend, except when it came to secrets, which Hermione very wisely kept to herself. "If you really know what's wrong, then I suppose the whole school must."  
  
"Only the half that has trouble sleeping," assured Lavender, to which Hermione's eyes widened. "No, I'm kidding. No one knows besides me, Ron, and Lee. We were walking up the stairs when George rushed past us like Filch was a foot behind him and we saw...well, you can answer that."  
  
When Hermione said nothing, Lavender went on. " It was too dark to see properly-trust me, my toes turned black and blue from Ron stepping on them so much-just who were you kissing, Hermione?"  
  
Still, Hermione said nothing, afraid to trust Lavender. She most empathically did not want the whole of Hogwarts abuzz about her current little mishap.  
  
"I won't tell a soul," promised Lavender. "Really."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because, I just wouldn't." Lavender smiled. "You and Parvati are my friends. You think I haven't had rumors told about me daily? I know what it's like and I'm not about to do the same to you. You don't tell rumors about me, I don't tell rumors about you. You don't believe rumors about me, I don't believe rumors about you. What you give it was you get. That's how it works." Lavender's face drooped a bit. "You don't mean to say you believe all those rumors about me after all? Because I thought you were one of the few people that didn't."  
  
"I don't," Hermione assured her, not telling a complete lie, but not telling the complete truth either. Lavender was a confusing person. Half of the time she seemed everything the rumors said, the other half she was..well...Lavender, not the image she always was projecting.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Hermione, ever cautious, decided to take a chance. "Alright..it was Fred."  
  
Those words alone were enough to send Lavender reeling. As it was, her eyes turned bigger than they had been even with cucumbers atop them, her eyebrows nearly dissapearing into her curlers out of disbelief. "Why-What-"  
  
Lavender calmed down slightly, tapping her forehead. "Did you fall out of bed or did Parvati throw another book at you for snoring or something? Are you daft or have you always been this insane and I've just failed to notice?"  
  
Hermione rubbed her forehead. "No, no, no, and no..I think."  
  
Lavender nodded. "That's what I thought. A loony in denial." She nodded again. "They always are."  
  
"Angelina would take those comments about Fred as an insult."  
  
"I don't care. It's not Angelina I'm talking to. Besides, Angelina isn't dating someone else and kissing another."  
  
"Oh sure, and you're one to talk!" shouted Hermione quite suddenly, eyes blazing as she bolted up from the bed.  
  
Lavender just sat, completely flummoxed, looking as if she had been slapped and trying to get rid of the queasy feeling in her stomach that insisted Hermione was right.  
  
"Lav, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's...alright." Lavender frowned. "You're lucky you aren't anyone else. Very lucky. Because if you were, I would have thrown you right out that window and down, down, down into the quidditch field."  
  
"No you wouldn't have."  
  
Lavender flushed slightly at being caught exaggerating, it had always been one of her hardest habits to break. "Well, I would at least have thrown my collection of lipstick at you." Then, when Hermione smiled. "My black collection of lipstick, which, I do believe, is somewhat poisonious. So there."  
  
"It's just..it seems everyone has been jumping to conclusions-Fred, George, and even you-and it's so frusterating, like talking to someone for an hour only to realize they've been asleep the whole time," said Hermione as Lavender, privately saying a fond good-bye to the chance of any breakfast, began pulling on nylons.  
  
"Aha! I knew you'd been reading Parvati's books. Confess. You have, haven't you?"  
  
"I would rather be forced to read the Magical Unabridged Dictionary backwards."  
  
"My point," said Lavender with a nod. "In that case, you've probably read her whole collection."  
  
"So what did happen?"  
  
"It was an accident."  
  
"I figured as much. But how?"  
  
"How? Think, Lavender. It was dark, I couldn't see a thing!"  
  
"Well, you obviously could see his mouth," said Lavender mischeviously, to which Hermione whapped her with a pillow.  
  
"Will you be serious? I thought it was George.."  
  
"When did you realize it wasn't?"  
  
Hermione went out the portrait, bag bulging with books as was normal, frizzy hair being pulled back into a bun as was also normal.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. The moment George showed up and stared at me like Ron does every time I mention homework?"  
  
"Just apologize to him. Unless he's got very selective hearing and his brain has been temporarily replaced by a bowl of oatmeal, he'll at the very least have to hear you out before he hexes you." Lavender smiled. "In which case, I'll be sure to arrange a very nice, color coordinated funeral."  
  
"With plenty of roses? He's allergic to them."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
"You are far too morbid," said Hermione as they made their way down the staircase (ignoring Peeves, who by this point, had given up sliding down banisters and any other forms of entertainment for just being content to point and laugh at anyone who walked by, in the hopes of emberassing them enough to make them miss the trick steps.)  
  
"Morbid? No, if I was morbid I would have locked both of you in Snape's wardrobe until you apologized."  
  
"Thanks," said Hermione dryly. "It's reassuring to know I have such supportive friends."  
  
"You're welcome. Really not such a bad idea, come to think of it." Lavender stole the hankerchief Hermione was blowing into to catch her attention.  
  
"You had better dry your tears," she said matter of a factly. "Or your nose will swell to the size of a salami."  
  
Hermione sighed. "I suppose that's real life. One stupid mistake ruins everything."  
  
Lavender studied her face. "You aren't talking about your nose swelling, are you?"  
  
"Of course not! I could care less if my whole face turned into an enormous carrot and I spouted broccoli from my ears. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I hurt George's feelings and I haven't the slightest idea how to go about apologizing."  
  
"You apologized to me earlier. How much harder can he be?"  
  
"It's not the same."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Hermione was surprised at Lavender's lack of knowledge on the matter. For all she had been in so many relationships, she really didn't seem to understand what they were about. But then, that was what being sixteen was for, wasn't it? Figuring out stuff.  
  
"It just isn't."  
  
"Here we go," said Lavender, pulling on Hermione's arm to enter Professor Binn's classroom. "Remember," she added, with a wink." If you faint, faint in the direction of George, not me. And don't listen to a word Ron says. Remember, he saw everything too, and he stayed up so late pacing, I'm surprised he didn't march right through the ceiling."  
  
"Probably been practicing with cue cards to scold me," guessed Hermione gloomily as Lavender went off to sit beside Parvati (and tease Parvati over the ever clueless Seamus.) Then there was Harry to explain things to. Hermione somehow less dreaded telling him than Ron. He was much more likely to listen to her all the way through before commenting. It was one thing she appreciated about Harry. His ability to just be silent and listen, to think before judging anyone. Ron was much more rash, though Hermione cared for him as a friend in her own way.  
  
She saw Ron, arms gesturing wildly in the air as he gestured to Harry something or other. Quidditch strategies, no doubt, thought Hermione, relieved they at least weren't talking about her escapade the night before.  
  
Boys. Hmph. Leave them alone for five seconds and the topic somehow always managed to revert itself to quidditch.  
  
And Hermione, straightening her back and raising her head, willing herself to stare only at the dusy chalk board and not to where she knew George would be sitting, looked unapologetic and proud, confident and assured. No matter how much she bled on the inside, the outside would stay as white as snow. This was not to say she didn't show her feelings, she simply didn't show those that were perceived as being a weakness.  
  
Keeping sadness, confusion, and hurt inside had never been such a chore before because during the past year, she had not had to hide. Slowly, with George, she had been opening herself layer by layer, breaking down wall by wall, to become more laid back and lose her many layered shell that was not so much to protect her from hurt as just something that had always been there, so long she was not sure how to remove it, how to see beyond schoolwork and obligation and rules, without help.  
  
Apologies were never something she had been good at. She was too proud. And scared. She had to be in control, to know what would happen next in life. No surprises. Apologizing was placing yourself in someone else's hands, theirs to accept or refuse. Weaknesses..Hermione hated having any, though she couldn't have said why that was any more than she understood the shell that kept her from cutting lose and having fun much of the time. There was just something about being average and having faults that was so frightening.  
  
How was apologizing average? Hermione wasn't sure, her thoughts were running far and wide, she wasn't her usual rational self as her cheeks flushed, trying to avoid George's eyes (which wasn't difficult, considering they weren't seeking her out) and sitting down next to Ron and Harry.  
  
********end of chapter here********  
  
next chapter: Seamus/Parvati and bits of Neville/Eloise (and of course, everyone else. What, you thought I'd leave them out?;)) 


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